I don’t think I’ve ever been to a New Year’s Eve party. If I have, it clearly didn’t stick in my memory. I do remember various December thirty-firsts spent watching movies alone, or with my husband, or falling asleep at nine pm because, hey, that’s New Year’s on the east coast.
When I was twelve (that would have been the last day of 1996), I spent New Year’s Eve alone in my bedroom watching Clueless on the itty bitty TV/VCR combo I’d gotten for Christmas (high tech!), eating junk food and occasionally glancing over to my poster of Rider Strong (Shawn from Boy Meets World–I’d torn the poster, in which he held a rose and looked seductively at the camera, out of an issue of Tiger Beat).
Last year, I–what did I do? I think I woke up at midnight to curse my neighbor who was setting off fireworks. Thankfully, I don’t think either of the kids woke up (though the girl was still nursing round the clock so I’m sure she woke up an hour later) but the dog sure did–she hates fireworks.
I have always dreamed of donning a sparkly silver dress, painting on a smoky eye, and going somewhere with twinkle lights and champagne. It would have to be a hotel, I think, because I’ve always been wary of holiday drunk drivers–even moreso since two of my friends were hit by one in the early ’00s and each lost a leg.
I am the kind of person to ruin the party by bringing these things up–which is probably another reason I’ve never been to a New Year’s party. I’m not very cool, I guess. Never have been. Probably never will be.
Anyway, this wasn’t meant to be a PSA about drunk driving. I’m really quite curious: how do you spend New Year’s Eve? Is it all sparkles and sequins, or is it low-key? Maybe you don’t even celebrate–or maybe you stay up all night making lists of resolutions.