That Night In December

Lately I have a lot of girlfriends fully participating in the world of dating. It seems to me that the friends in my life have gone one of two ways. I have girlfriends who settled down with bachelor number one or two fairly early on. They’re engaged, married, or own a puppy together.

Then I have this group of friends who have done the opposite. They’re on to bachelor number seventeen, they’ve been single so long they forget what it’s like to share anything with anyone, or there’s my funnest friends: The one’s who now look at dating as an experiment. They’re the people who got sick of unfulfilling relationships and bad dates so they changed their perspective on it all. They have checklists, goals, experiments, and they don’t take any of it too seriously. They’re in it for the fun of it to the joy of people like me who love hearing the stories over Sunday morning brunches.

I had a lot of hilarious Sunday morning brunches in the month of December. Maybe because of all the holiday parties and that forever overrated night called New Years Eve. These stories had a common theme; they all involved us humiliating ourselves in front of the boys we liked. Or, you could also look at these stories as proof that we need to stop binge drinking.

I can’t remember what friend said this because I think it was just before midnight on December 31st. But I remember hearing “If he really likes you, you can’t embarrass yourself in front of him”.  It seems that during the end of December the universe was testing this.

There will always be drunk texting. I remember being twenty years old and swapping cell phones with my best friend so that we wouldn’t text our ex-boyfriends. Cynthia knows herself so well that she deletes the messages she sends after eleven o’clock on weekends because she doesn’t feel like cringing at the witty attempts at flirting she made the night before.

“Oh my god. I remember you told me to be nicer to him so apparently I told him I liked his dimples”

“At least you didn’t say I can’t wait for you to [insert something totally raunchy and explicit here]”

“Don’t put those ideas in my head!! Take my phone away from me and don’t give it back until tomorrow morning”

To make her feel better I remind Cynthia of my New Years Eve. This was the first night I “partied” with the guy I’m seeing. You would have thought I’d be a little smarter and eat enough to balance out the amount of rum and champagne we were drinking. Early on in the evening I posted that overused quote on Instagram that says “time to drink champagne and dance on the table”. There was no dancing on my part. I fell asleep standing up nestled into his chest. Apparently I kissed Cynthia at midnight and my friends had to direct me to my new guy. The next day I checked my phone and I had sent Cynthia a text at 12:14am asking if we could go home yet.  Lucky for me he’s kind enough to trust that I’m normally a little more fun than this.

In the midst of our  two day NYE hangover my roommate and I felt better about ourselves after we heard a story from a friend who went home with her new boyfriend after a late December Christmas Party.

“The question is, where didn’t I get sick?”

Oh no.

“I puked all over his apartment”

Oh god.

“It gets worse. I woke up in his shower.  Then he slept with me on the bathroom floor all night”.

He sounds like a keeper.

And then there’s every girls worst fear. My good girlfriend Kim loves to party. She’s that friend who has been to every festival, experimented with every drug, and can drink most guys under the table. She came over on the 27th with a look of horror on her face and I knew something bad must have happened.

I can always tell when Kim’s about to confess something. I sit patiently and wait.

“I peed his bed.”


“We played five rounds of Sociables. I drank a 26 of vodka, shots, champagne, wine, smoked a shit ton of weed, and barely ate.”

“No wonder you had zero control over your body”.

“I blamed it on his dog”

“And he believed you!?”

“I don’t think so” 

Kim and her boyfriend of two months are still together. Not a word has been spoken since about his dog peeing the bed.

So I guess it might be true. If a guy is really into you no drunk text or messy New Years Eve will change that. And if it does, there will be a guy out there who will clean up your puke, hold you up at the bar, and not call you out on blaming his dog for pissing your pants.

Way to start the year off right girls.


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