So, after my strongly-worded diatribe I penned a mere two days ago that detailed my negative opinions about how terrible New Year’s Eve is and why I had every intention of avoiding people, places and all things associated with the occasion, I ate my words and actually partook in almost all of the awful, cliched activities that characterize celebrating New Year’s. Whoops!
To be fair, my New Year’s Eve plans were spontaneous, last-minute and ultimately influenced by a group of my oldest friends who were visiting Austin for the day and now live in North Carolina, California and New York respectively. If I was asked to dress up, go to dinner, pay a cover and brave downtown Austin in the biting cold with any other group of individuals I would have definitely said “no” or feigned some compelling excuse about washing my hair or explaining that… “as much as I’d like to join you guys, I don’t really want to join you guys….”
But I’ve known these dudes since I was 13 years old and some of my fondest memories of summer camp, Vans Warped Tour, the first boy I ever liked (none of the above by the way) and my entire four years in college involve these goofy guys so I would have been a terrible friend if I denied the rare opportunity to spend meaningful time with them. Plus, it evened out the group for the one solo, girlfriend-free, fiance-free bachelor, who happens to be my oldest and closest friend of the bunch. Accompanying him was a pressure-free, innocent and fun way to start off 2014 single, but not alone – free of any sort of anxiety or expectation, arguably the most unattractive aspects of the entire New Year’s Eve experience.
The haphazard nature of how quickly I had to alter my original plans of running errands, staying in and starting my latest literary conquest saved me the time and money of buying a dress, getting my nails done and even showering – things I probably would have done under different circumstances. But I ultimately managed to appear presentable and though my opinions about New Year’s Eve are steadfast and unwavering, I would be a miserable liar if I said I didn’t have a good time. Because I did. You can call me a hypocrite if you want, but the evidence for my original arguments is still crystal clear – I did have to spend an unreasonable amount of money on cover fees and alcohol. I did have to worry about finding a cab, and I did have to withstand 40-degree weather in an insufficient ensemble paired with excruciatingly painful high-heeled shoes. These components are all undeniably terrible things indicative of celebrating New Year’s Eve. However, the company I was with was worth the extra effort I wouldn’t have otherwise made – so judge me if you like, I don’t really care.
I still hate New Year’s Eve. I just love my friends.
Photos complements of the beautiful Melissa