I stayed in and didn't do a damn thing for New Years Eve in hopes of averting the NYE curse that has plagued me my whole life. What is this NYE Curse I speak of? Allow me to provide you, gentle reader, with a few sample occurrences from NYEs past:
1988/89 - Arrived at a NYE party only to discover that my then boyfriend had been having a hot and heavy make-out session with some other chick.* His excuse? He'd had a crush on her since kindergarten whereas he'd only had a crush on me since the 10th grade.
1993/94 - Went out for a NYE night on the town with a guy I was dating and a couple I'd never met before. The guy I was with was an unbelievably shallow asshole** and due to some kind of lapse in judgment I kept going out with him (I couldn't stop wondering if I was being shallow for thinking he was an asshole....yeah I used to fuck my own mind, it was awful and nobody ever got off. That's what girls do in their twenties. We waste our perky tits on shit like this). Anyway at one point in the night my date's assholery peaked at which time I nervously said aloud, "That's Mike. He's my little asshole." And this chick from the other couple turns to me and says "What does that say about you?" I went silent and obsessed on her comment all evening while pretending to have fun.
2007/08 - Spent hundreds of dollars hosting my own NYE party only to have some black-hole of negativity douche bag ruin it by insulting our selection of alcoholic beverages, my friends and myself in front of everyone, in my own damn house! And I didn't even know this guy! He was a friend of a friend. I should have told him to get the fuck out but I couldn't stop second-guessing myself and wondering if I was overreacting or if this guy really was an asshole. I went silent and obsessed on his comments all evening while pretending to have fun.***
Okay, maybe that's only three examples, but I'm ultra-sensitive and hurty so it feels like I've lived through thirty-five humiliating NYE experiences.
*We may or may not have been technically on a break.
**This guy was also a premature ejaculator, for which he never apologized or acknowledged in any way. And guys, come on, I know I excite you beyond measure, but if you blow your wad that quickly every fucking time then you need to at least acknowledge it in some way and have a plan B. When you acknowledge it and you've got a plan B, all is forgiven and your ex won't reveal humiliating secrets about your sexual performance on her blog. Dig? (BTW I nearly died with glee when this guy's last name was used as a synonym for "vagina" on a recent episode of The Sarah Silverman Program. Thank you, Jesus! There is justice in the universe for girls who are sexually gypped.)
***Yes, I do see the pattern here. But isn't this a charming flaw? On Judgment Day don't you think Jesus will just tossle my hair and say, "Git yo' silly ass on up in my Kingdom, girl!" No? Then who am I eating all this humble pie for?!?!?
P.S. The Current Boyfriend has requested that I make it abundantly clear that he is NOT any of the boyfriends listed above.