Wednesday, December 29, 2004

What Are You Doing New Years Eve?

My page-a-day calendar tells me it's almost time to party like it's 1999, er, 2004.

That means it's time to get my affairs in order.

Not those affairs, the affairs that involve any activity for a such a prominent day in a single gal's social calendar.

So far, here are my options:
A) Go to a party with all my married friends, hang out next to the chip-and-dip table and play some mean Trivial Pursuit (ooohh, useless information is just oozing out of my brain thanks to the practice at Christmas).
B) Round up all my single gal pals (including my friend in the red leather pants), put on the fun clothes and my pink wig and hit the bar/club scene to rub elbows and bump and grind (okay, not so keen on that second part) with every other singleton in LexVegas.

I am leaning towards B) only because of the wig factor. It's so cool, almost chin length and flippy. It's a la Kelly Osborne (in fact, some jackbag yelled out "Yo, Kelly Osborne," one time when I took it to the hip streets of Lexington.) I love playing dress up, and a wig is no better way to jerk you into a different personality.

In some ways I hate New Year's Eve. It's a night full of imposed pressure that intensifies as that second hand sweeps up towards the top of the clock. Without question, in every bar in every town in every state across the country, no, the world, people look to see just who they'll be locking lips with at the stroke of Midnight.

Some folks are lucky to walk into a bar or party, arm in arm with their spouse or significant other, full well knowing who they'll be planting a wet one on when The Ball drops.

Not me.

Other folks start panting around 11:30... scanning the room for another sole soul in the room to grab and hold onto as the world welcomes the New Year. I hate that because it's just too damn familiar... I mean, really, how can you have a great kiss with someone you've only just met? My stomach starts sinking as the clock marches on, counting time and carrying the burden of bringing us through to a new year, a new challenge, a new opportunity.

Nooo, when the clock strikes midnight, regardless of the scene, I'll likely be standing alone, my heart beating with a giant thud: loud from nerves, loud from emptiness and loud from regret.

I hate New Year's Eve because of the stares I draw from those folks sharing the moment with another soul. You know, the pity glares, "Oh, Kate. Kiss my husband. Every girl needs a kiss on New Year's Eve, plus ****'s always admired your rack."


I declined.

No. Not this year. I shall stand strong in my pink wig with my friend in the red leather pants, waiting for a day without so much significance.


spydrz said...

Your friend propositioned her husband for you to kiss? Wow. That could be somewhat awkward. I imagine they were somewhat tipsy at the time.

Michele said...

In my opinion (well, yeah, of course it is my opinion) pink hair can only improve any evening, or at the very least make you feel tickled. I am certain you will have a glorious and sparkly night.

Micah said...

So wearing a pink wig while playing Trivial Pursuit is not an option?

I absolutely detest New Years. It's my absolute least favorite holiday out there, for many of the same reasons that you posted. And for other reasons. But I get out with friends that night, though. Better to be miserable with others than alone. Unless they are all couples - then I'd prefer to just party with my friend (Maker's) Mark and Gerald Collier*.

*His "I Had To Laugh Like Hell" is the perfect drinkin' alone album.

Kate The Great said...

I used to be very good friends with Mark... we were practically inseperable right out of college. But we broke up.

I guess I could wear the pink wig and play TP... but those married folks just don't understand my wild antics. You'd think some (not all) of my married friends had been hitched for 60 years... but they're only in their 20s and 30s.

Ah... to be young and wild.

spydrz said...

I'll be playing some mean Trivial Pursuit tomorrow in Charlotte and Saturday in Philadelphia (don't ask how this happens--it involves the space-time continuum) with married friends. But I don't own a pink wig...

Micah said...

Because of my financial set-back, I'm now undecided if I'll make it to The Sweeties' place in Philly. I dunno...I'll probably end up making the trip. I have a $50 Pennsylvania Lottery ticket to cash, anyway, so I have to at least cross the state line.

Michael Hickerson said...

Why is it when I hear about you in the pink wig that I'm getting flashbacks to the first season of Alias with Sydney in a pink wig?

Wait a minute...are you really a secret spy gal?!?

I knew it!

I'd best run before you have to silence me permanently...

Kate The Great said...

Michael! Good to see you! You found me out. I specialize in recognizance missions across the state line, infiltrating Rocky Top Country. My evil plan involves a longstanding tradition of Wildcat losses, which assist me in taking down the unsuspecting Tennessee fan ;)