Countdown...

No, I did not drink so much that I was out of commission to post about it, I was just lazy. And busy.

New Years Eve was as predictable as I thought it would be. Well, except for the last bit. Our party of roughly 15 people arrived at roughly 11:00 p.m. There was nobody there, except for a few small knots of people, mostly those who were already dangerously drunk and dangerously unclassy.

Things got off to a slow start, to say the least. We sort of sat around in a circle making mild conversation while awkwardly sipping from our drinks. Couples ran hands up and down each others backs, a sure sign of fidgeting. People were not having a blast, and that certainly included me.

Time wore on slowly and we made our way to the dance floor. The music was abysmally bad and did not make me "shake my groove thing" as one person pointed out. Not that I'm an easy sell when it comes to music to dance to...I mean I love Madonna, and some pop stuff, but this was just shit.

The hands on my watch were approaching 11:50 and I prayed time would fly by, we could make some flimsy excuse and leave. I was starting to feel very out of place for a number of reasons, none as oppressive as the single-in-a-world-of-couples feeling. True, there were many people in groups of single-sexed friends, but very few who were a mixture of males and females such as our group was.

I stood there dancing in the rough circle we had established, couples, my friends, on either side glaring into each others eyes whilst sliding hands (and hopefully that was all) over all sorts of interesting places. I felt very alone.

At 11:58 a friend walked over with a stack of glasses. The music improved and I found myself singing along with a few people and enjoying the dancing more. I think I've damaged my ears because for some reason I wasn't cringing at how obscenely loud the music was.

The countdown began and I happily joined in to the main event. As we reached 3, the glasses were distributed to a few of us, and after a hearty, "Happy New Year!" was shouted we downed their contents. While the couples all began resuscitating each other, the two single guys and myself shook hands and gave each other a knowing nod and a, "Happy New Year man."

Of course, the music did not stop during this time, so we all continued to dance. Around this moment, I heard someone say, "Fuck 2007." Something in that sparked me. I don't agree with the sentiment, because 2007 happened to be a milestone year for me. Instead I found myself quite enjoying the 'fuck it' part of the statement. As my eyes swept the room for the hundredth time, looking for something, anything that I could identify with, I began to evolve this 'fuck it' notion.

From 12:00 on, I danced (not with reckless abandon) as I pleased, alone, drink in hand, occasionally singing along with a song that I knew. Don't ask me where it came from, but in that moment, I just said 'fuck it' to the idea that I would look like an idiot. And it felt very good.

During this I also started drafting what I guess are resolutions but ultimately were thoughts on the situation as of that moment. Mostly, they were:

-Try not to be single yet again at New Years so do not feel sense of accomplishment and social stigma of being perceived as pervert who, while out with attached friends for a fun evening, tries desperately to chase skirt.
-Failing this, do not go out with couples to New Years, as they do couply things that lead to feeling excluded and a sense of utter failure. Though singletons are greater in number, they are far less organized than the oppressive forces of the opposite side, mainly happy couples, leading to stigmatization.
-Failing this, do not do New Years in a setting that caters to mostly couple related activities but instead try more all-inclusive approach of public New Years celebration, private party with friends, chic dinner with v. few friends, Aruba, etc. Make holiday about New Years, not about couples snogging at midnight while self clutches empty shot glass and ponders stupid resolutions.
-Failing this, manage to attend a homosexual event, either private party, chic dinner or even dancing at a bar, so as to actually make dancing with a desirable sex/orientation possible, and increase probability of having make out/New Years shag partner.

My mood improved greatly after midnight and the rest of the evening was fun, almost carefree. After all, I'd released myself from my ever-growing mood, and got into the spirit of enjoying New Years. There was no kissing a boy at midnight, and there certainly was no New Years sex (though there was six of us in my bedroom...), but it was fun in the end. And of course I enjoyed both the pre and post bar part immensely, as they were far more social and filled with comradery and goodwill of the season.

So, so long to 2007, and what a year it was! And hello 2008, hopefully the best is yet to come.