It’s been a crazy year, these past few days. Obviously, New Year’s Eve happened and we have to talk about it. Not the movie; don’t be dumb, no one saw it. I mean, I haven’t checked the stats on it, but no one I know saw it and those are the only people whose movie watching I track, and I will admit now that without a doubt I will watch it some day in a hotel room.
In real life, I’ve never had a good time on New Year’s Eve. One year, after my TV star boyfriend had dumped me for his TV star new girlfriend, I was trying to move on and keep my head held high. I found myself at a party watching the MTV countdown, only to see the camera pan over to him proudly kissing her at midnight on the TV. Another year, I was stuck on an island with a boyfriend who literally played Brick Breaker on his Blackberry through the countdown. Another, I decided to be mature and go out to dinner with my boyfriend, my mom and step dad, and the whole time my mom complained about our table not being in a good spot, the temperature in the room, the unimpressive clientele and how she’d rather be home. One year, I just made a really bad hair and outfit choice and it ruined the night. A lot of them ended in throwing up and/or crying.
January 1st is always the moment of truth. It’s like, how bad did I decide to start the year off last night? How much did I barf? How skinny is it going to make me look today?
The thing I’ve realized is that I always sabotage a moment out of fear that the next moment is going to be unfulfilling. I panic that when midnight comes around, I’m going to be wandering around a room in slow motion watching everyone pair up while I desperately search for anyone to look me in the eye. I’m so busy anticipating the disappointment that I never even find out if it is going to be disappointing. The anxiety about something is always worse than the actual thing you are worried about. Putting off a phone call that you’re nervous to make and spending a week losing sleep over it and getting knots in your stomach thinking about it is so much worse than the moment you finally pick up the phone and just say what you need to say. I think New Year’s Eve is a time when we all do it. We want it to be so good that we ruin it. Did that rhyme?
It’s always the party you didn’t plan on going to that you have the best time at. It’s the person you underestimated who impresses you. It’s the thing you’ve obsessed over that doesn’t end up being what you wanted. We never know how things are gonna go. If we stopped jumping ahead and trying to know what’s ahead, we would enjoy where we are a little more.
I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions unless you made them for yourself every week instead of every year. Use this week as an excuse to better yourself, but do it again next month. And stop ruining everything with needing to know the outcome before it’s even over!
For the record, I had a great New Year’s Eve this time. I wore a $60 dress, didn’t get drunk, and got ready about thirty minutes before heading out. Pressure off= outcome satisfying.
Featured image is my own.
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