There’s nothing worse than pretending to be happy and forcing yourself to have fun while sipping on a extremely overpriced E.U (£19.99) regulated cocktail in an overcrowded poncy wine bar as you unenthusiastically countdown to the big anti-climactic 3,2,1… until you can just f*ck off and go back home to bed.
Make no mistake about it, New Years Eve is the WORST day of the year, yes, even worse than the day Hillary Clinton was conceived, and that was an absolutely frightening day foretelling future scandals, farcical fortunes, failures, plus suspicious deaths.
But for New Year Eve there’s that internal pressure weeks before the event to have a grand plan for the night. If you haven’t already worked out the venue, your budget and the friends you’ll be seeing in the new year with, you’ll be left behind and end up in the multicultural gratification of a Romanian restaurant, being served up overpriced sweet dough rolls and counterfeit wine by a sweaty bearded illegal migrant named Matei, and let’s be honest, nobody wants to spend NYE in such a bloody dive, do they?!
There is a preconceived notion built up in our collective little heads that we MUST have fun on New Year’s Eve! Not just your run of the mill kind of fun, but the kind of misinterpreted fun that a refugee has with a preadolescent girl in the most romantic spot under the Eiffel Tower.
Any free (cheap) or inclusive promotional alcoholic beverage that we gulp down that night, must be about as enjoyable as Monica Lewinsky going down on Bill Clinton in the Oval Office, and every little miniature snack presented to us on a pretentious sliver platter must be enjoyed like a priest enjoying a choir boy on Midnight Mass.
The paradox of New Year’s Eve is that we don’t want to be alone, but we also don’t want to be fighting for oxygen in a crowded room either, being served up crappy flat Cava that’s being passed off as Champagne, for a hefty price with a bunch of loud mouthed lager louts. Just HOW much was that New Years Eve pub entry ticket, again?!
When it comes down to it, most people really don’t want to be miserable, lonesome and ridiculously single on New Years Eve, singing 80’s power ballads and chucking down a bottle of Lambrini and feeling hard done by and sorry for ourselves, but on the other hand, the thought of being in a stuffed room resembling a Monday morning on the Central line cramped in a tube narrowly avoiding elbows and coffee breath is not something that fills us with any New Year’s Eve festive glee, is it?
Let’s face it, either way, New Year’s Eve is just flat-out depressing, at the best of times. So here goes, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6…
5, 4, 3, 2, 1…. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
After the countdown is over and those ever-familiar bars of New Years Eve’s mandatory party anthem of “Candy” begins to play, which you’re obliged to dance along to with Auntie Carol because it’s New Year’s Eve “LAW”, all you’re left with is a huge empty feeling that no amount of alcohol can wash away.
You will realise that New Year’s Eve is just ANOTHER night, and by the time your self-inflected hangover wears off, you will have forgotten the many ways this particular New Year’s Eve did not live up to your highly exaggerated expectations, as it happens every year.
So, when December 2018 comes about, the cycle of disappointment will begin anew, and those new year resolutions that you half-heartedly made last year, will just be deemed another failure come New Years Eve.
Yes, you will most likely still be ravaged with cellulite, despite all the January diet fads, and you’ll still most likely be morbidly obese, and quite possibly still be claiming benefits too… So, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
Story by Michael Lee
Featured Photo Credit: Buzzfeed