New Years Eves of yore

So my wife and I are sitting here alone tonight, enjoying our first solo New Years Eve in at least 10 years. Nice and laid back, though it does make me feel old.

I am reminded, though, of the more eventful New Years eves of my youth. I had a remarkable feast-or-famine five-year stretch in the early-to-mid '90s in which the opposite sex either stomped on my nuts and broke my heart on New Years Eve...or, uhh, treated me quite well.

1990: Went to a drug- and alcohol-free party thrown by the local YMCA. Was convinced I'd end the night in the throes of passion with the object of my affection, a knockout blonde from my art class. We flirted all night, danced at midnight, etc etc...so imagine my surprise when I walked into a movie room and saw her swapping DNA with a so-called "friend" of mine. Months later, I ended up going out with this girl's best friend...while the former object of my affection eventually stole the virtue of one of MY best friends.

1991: Said girlfriend and I went to a friend's house for New Year's. Imagine my surprise at 11:15 when she sprung on me that she had to be home by midnight. Being 18 and not all that intelligent, I said there was no way I was taking her home because I wanted to celebrate new year's with all my friends who had moved on to college. She said well I have to be home and if you're not going to take me home then someone else will. Someone else did and we ended up breaking up at a basketball game a couple nights later. She threw my class ring at me. Not good times.

1992: Still pining over the ex, who had moved on to some STD-spreading burnout loser, I went out with a few friends and ended up making out with a, uhh, well-endowed woman I'd met just before midnight. Alas, finishing this deal was as easy as settling under a lazy pop-up...but I was so mopey about the ex that I muffed it. She ended up swiping ANOTHER friend's virtue a few weeks later.

1993: Went to a party with a buddy's sister with whom I'd flirted for about four years. I really thought I'd round the bases...but she ended up hooking up with some sleazebag fringe friend of ours. Sigh.

1994: Went to Times Square with a bunch of my hometown buddies and my future wife, whom I'd been dating for a month. Everyone has to do that once, but I'll never do it again. We kissed as the ball dropped about six blocks away (we didn't get into the city until 9:30 or so). Later that night, we said the words "I love you" to each other for the first time. Awwwwwww. Nice way to end a wacky five-year period.

So what are your tales of New Years Eves of yore?

 

New Year's Eve 1993 -- painful memories.

Freshman year in college, I went to a friend's party. We played a drinking game that night -- losing poker hands took a shot. Well, because I don't drink, I needed to do something. I had brought a case of Mountain Dew with me that night and vowed to drink a can for each losing hand to compensate for not taking shots.

I drank the whole case -- all 24 cans -- by night's end with ease. I did so with pride, not thinking twice about it. That is until I woke up the next morning, when my stomach ached badly. The next two days, I felt my stomach turn and grumble nonstop. I had no clue drinking that much pop could do that to someone. I didn't drink pop for months, I felt physically ill just looking at it.

Only in the aftermath did I realize why everyone look at me in such awe that night, laughing about how I would feel it.

 

New Year's Eve has sucked for 34 years.

 

new year's eve, 1992 -- my sister had come for christmas -- no small feat, considering we lived in japan and she was in medical school in texas. she left, but her roommate, who i'd always had a crush on, stayed for another day or so. we went to a party on base for the countdown to midnight, and i was so drunk. i'm 17, but my parents know i'm trashed, but for some reason are cool with it. i think my dad was drunk, too. then, kaye (my sister's roommate) and some other folks and i all go to kamakura to do the traditional watching of the sun rise on the new year. lots of drinking, was awesome.

1994 -- was back in japan, even though i'd been in college. my sister was back, too, because it was my parents' 25th wedding anniversary. that's when i finally did the math and realized my parents were married dec. 31, 1969 and my sister was born july 9, 1970. i point this out, and my sister tells me i'm an idiot. i tell her it never bothered me because i wasn't the bastard child. then some friends and i go to ropongi and to a club. they play 'smells like teen spirit' and i start trying to slam dance with a sumo wrestler. he wasn't amused. good times.

 

Nice...

 

Dangit, you made me think. I can put pen to paper and probably be able to account for every New Years as far back as sixth grade, at least regarding where I was (not necessarily what I did. )

 

I passed out in the snow after smoking my first joint years ago on New Year's Eve.

My how things have changed. This year, I smooched the wife at midnight while watching the ball drop on TV. Then, after my daughter started screeching from her crib, I drank a glass of bubbly as she threw up on me.

In both cases, it appeared that my new year was bound for doom.

 

I'm pleased to say this New Year's was better than the last one for ol' MW...Though of course that doesn't take much. Here's to a 2007 that's better than '06.

 

I was in BBYO (a Jewish youth group) for years and took over a tradition my older brother started by throwing a massive New Year's party at our house while my parents were in Vegas. The second year I held it, 1988, I got together with this cutie named Bella with a great smile and tight little body while a good friend macked with his girlfriend Violet. Bella and I were on my bed and Jeff and Violet on another bed in the room. Said older bro had moved out years earlier but for some reason made an appearance. He walked into my room and turned on the light to see four 17-year-olds getting jiggy with each other. All he could do when he saw me was smile because it was the first time anyone in my family saw a girl I liked. I didn't bring girls home because my family (i.e. parents) are nuts. It got to the point when I was 14, 15, 16 that my mom said something to my brother, "What, is he a fag or something?" My brother told her about my teen spirit ways from that party and allayed her fears. After 17 years, I'd love to know whatever became of Bella.

 

She wouldn't be the first one I drove in that, uh, direction.

Oh, last night's story is embarrassing and I'll save that for another time.