The Life of Bon: An Obligatory New Year's Post

Monday, January 02, 2012

An Obligatory New Year's Post

Okay, fine.  I'll post about New Year's.  But not because I want to.  Let the records show- I am doing this out of pure societal pressure!

It's just that  I hate New Year's Eve.

But really.  Just think about it for a minute.  New Year's is the biggest let down of a holiday, and you all know it.

My realization that New Year's was all walk and no talk came the year I was 13.  2000 was fast approaching, and I wanted to celebrate in style, by golly!  All of my friends were a year older than me, and thus permitted to attend the big New Year's Eve Stake dance.  Thirteen year olds can't handle the kind of intimacy acquired from a slow dance, so only fourteen and uppers are allowed to attend, you understand, don't you? 

My little sister, Mary, begged me to stay home at watch 101 Dalmatians with her.  Please, Mary, that is sooooo lame for a 13 year old's New Year's celebration, don't you know anything?  But as much as I didn't want to, I was about to be destined to celebrate the coming in of the millennium Dalmatian style with my nerdy nine year old sister.  Except for one little detail. 

My parents were out of town. 

And so, I did the most predictable thing a short, scrawny, puberty-less, party-loving thirteen year old would do. 

I ditched Mary and snuck into the stake dance with my 14 year old friends. 

The dance went like this:
Not one boy asked me to "slow dance".
I was much too self conscious and awkward to even try to "fast dance."
Immense amounts of guilt were attacking me and telling me I was a lying sinner for having snuck in before I was of the rightful dancing age.
I stuck close to that always-loving, accepting wall for hours.  Midnight could not come soon enough for me.

In other words:

The dance was a bust.

The next day, I felt so guilty about my breaking and entering into that stake dance that I "confessed" to my parents.  In tears, I explained to my mom and dad where I had been and what I had been up to the night before.  I think they were smart enough at that point to realize that I had already punished myself enough and further discipline would just be overkill.

Instead, my dad just said, "New Year's Eve has always been my least favorite holiday."

And that was the end of their lecture.  At that moment I quietly vowed that I would forever follow father's example and become a faithful New Year's hater myself.

Here's the thing, though.  I'm not completely unforgiving.  I would have let New Year's have a second chance.  But he kept blowing it, year after year.  Disappointment after disappointment.  The New Year's Eves that followed involved lame parties, never having a boy to kiss at midnight, and working at Sizzler until 11:45 while waiting for that one last table to leave.  Each year my conviction that New Year's is the worst holiday just became more permanently ingrained in my skull.  I have a bad feeling I totally butchered that saying, but you get my point!
And that, my friends, is why I didn't much feel like writing a blog post about New Year's. 

But since you MUST know, I will tell you the short details of this year's New Year celebration.   Hubs had a show that evening, (and performed brilliantly, OF COURSE) and then we went to Hubs' brother's and played  Bang! until 2 am.  Hey, there's no point in chasing outlaws and killing deputies unless you are going to do it until 2 am, right?

Overall it was a great night.

Still, though.

I'd pick Halloween over New Year's any day. 

1 comment:

  1. The reason New Year's Eve is no fun for us is because we don't drink. Everyone that has a blast is drinking or drunk.