Thursday, 31 December 2009

On New Year's Eve and Why It Feels Me With Fear

Ah. Here we are again. New Year's fucking Eve. Excuse my bad language, but tonight is the one night of the year that I hate more than any other. Much like a werewolf only changes on nights with a full moon, I turn into a monster on New Year's Eve.

On any other night of the year I can be counted on to be a quite a decent sort of drunk. A happy one, a funny one, a bitchy one - but never a MONSTROUS one. Let me take you through a brief history of my New Year's Eve woes:

2002: my first legal drunken NYE saw me crying in the toilets. I don't remember why.

2005: a massive row with my then girlfriend lead to me flirting outrageously with someone else, alienating both the girlfriend and most of my friendship group.

2006: first NYE with current boyfriend - this should have been a perfect opportunity to impress his mates I'd not met before. Which I did. I impressed them with my Incredible Hulk impression as I stomped off shouting into the dark. When N finally caught up with me I delivered what can only be described as a bitch slap, followed by two woefully off-target kicks at which point he called the police. They rang him back, at which point I'd sunken into a pathetic blob on the pavement and asked if he was ok. Ever the gentleman, he apologised for wasting their time and said he was fine - to which they responded "Is this true or are you being made to say that?" OH THE SHAME.

2007: The shame was obviously not enough, for I repeated my performance on NYE 2007 (there were, however, underlying reasons for this one, but that's a story for another time). I believe the catalyst for my metamorphosis from Dr Drunk into Mr Mental was N's decision not to buy a kebab, which sent me into a downward spiral of rage and depression. The embarrassment doesn't stop there: N's patience (which is near limitless) snapped, and he called my dad to pick me up. Oh. My. God.

2008: In the early hours of the morning, the party was rocking and I was hiding behind a camper van. I had stormed out, before realising that I had no fucking clue where I was, so decided to hide from the well-meaning people searching for me. However, hearing N say "Leave him alone, he'll come back" put things in perspective. I'd become a joke. A walking caricature of everything that's bad about being drunk on NYE - so I left my hiding place and walked, tail between legs, back into the party. At which point I went about apologising to everybody profusely, including a bloke who was going to the toilet at the time. Apparently my heartfelt apology through the door gave him stage fright. Good. 'Cos he started it.

And this brings us up to date. I hasten to add that I am not a bad person. I am never violent, although I am frequently angry. NYE just messes me up in a way that other nights don't. I think it's because I drink to be drunk for midnight. I drink as much as I can before Big Ben chimes so that I won't feel like a prick singing Auld Lang Syne. Then the clock chimes, and I continue in the pace I'd set beforehand.

Tonight things will be different. Of course I will be drunk, but I will also be drink a glass of water between each drink. Hopefully, the monster will stay in its cage and I'll be able to have a nice night out like a normal person, and put all this silliness behind me!

Happy New Year 2010!


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