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Dropping the ball

Good old fashioned fun.  Happy New Year!  Photo credit
The New Year.  It is at once the last night and the first morning in the year that we all care about.  Be it in your pjs or party dress, everyone goes into the evening with a firm decision about how he or she wants to spend it.   Whether you love NYE or hate it, I know we all have feelings about how we rang in 2014.  In classic husband fashion, Boyfriend wanted to stay in, while I wanted to go out.  Contessa was in town, but instead of cooking it up for friends, the plan was to have an easy but festive New Year’s shindig in her gracious home, similar to the one I missed last New Year when Boyfriend/ Husband (I alternate between calling him both, depending on mood/ circumstance) convinced me last minute that we should stay in.  Though he and I shared a memorable farewell dinner to 2012 trying to digest my failed attempt at Working Class Foodies’ Bo Ssam, I really really REALLY wanted us to spend NYE with friends this year, chomping on bbq, making toasts, and dancing in the Contessa’s makeshift garage disco with lights, mirror ball and all!  So we compromised:  I would go out earlier in the evening and try to make it back before the ball dropped.  Admittedly, I went from convinced to conflicted about my decision as I started applying my eyeliner shortly before heading out.    Aren’t we supposed to be together for the New Year?  Why does his desire to stay in trump his desire to celebrate with me?  It wasn’t about feeling unwelcome, or disliking the company.  It was as simple as him sticking with his decision made before Christmas, “I don’t want to go out on New Year’s Eve.”  I on the other hand had been looking forward to the party for weeks.  I could not wrap my head around his conviction, whereby he was likely perplexed by mine.   We agreed to disagree, and we both knew deep down neither of us had more valid feelings than the other.  It was only 8pm and I had a sinking feeling we’d already dropped the ball on the new year.
Hopeful that he’d changed his mind,  Well Woman and Gallery Girl among other guests were looking for Boyfriend while I was at the party, but not one of them had even a whiff of judgement upon hearing our compromise.  Besides, I had Toffifay as my stand in date, and really, who can hate on a traveling mascot, especially one with my husband’s seal of approval?  
Why yes, that IS a penguin in my purse.  Toffifay is the perfect stand in date.  Photo by BP.

Anyone who knows us will tell you that we have this heavy element of doing our own things, which I even wrote about in last year’s post right here.  It’s a very “opposites attract” relationship when it comes to energy devoted to socializing.  I am more mingle and meet while he is more chill and eat, and it’s fine, really it is.  There are so many other things, important values, behaviors, and attitudes we share.  But of course, last night, I wondered if we were dropping the ball on (not) celebrating the new year together.  Would one of us HAVE to be miserable doing what the other wanted to on New Year’s Eve?  Isn’t it better that instead of feelings of resentment we just did our own thing?  Or is there a limit or norm for when your rules as a couple apply?  Did I need to have that in my head, when realizing how normal it seemed for everyone over dinner and how there may have been a hubby or two who kind of wished he had done the same?
In the end, it worked out.  I had a great time.  As expected, it was a fun, fun party and am so glad I went.  Gallery Girl and her husband needed to make it back before midnight to be with their daughter who stayed awake with the nanny.  They delivered me home to Boyfriend who was so happy and surprised to see me in the last minutes of 2013.  He even leapt off the couch to give me a hug at 11:45pm.  Pots and wooden spoons in hand at the stroke of midnight, with money in our pockets, and all of the lights in the apartment on, we rang in the new year with the banging of our pots, jumping up and down, cheering happily, and of course, the requisite new year’s kiss.  It all works out.  In a really lucky compromise, dropping the ball is not always that bad. 
Following his childhood tradition of banging pots at midnight.  Photo by BP.


  1. Anonymous says

    LOVE this!!! My compromises: He can be an asshole and I don't have to like that he is and I can love myself even if he can't. So he can suck it. Here's to a Happy 2014!!!

  2. Hi Amy! I know, it wasn't ideal by any means really, but it worked, right? I am definitely glad making it home before midnight was in the cards for us 😉

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