Couples often describe their New Year's Eve plans as simple and sweet: a cozy dinner for two or a relaxing family movie night. But when you're single, simplicity doesn’t feel like an option. Especially if you're looking for love, spending the night in your pajamas watching Netflix can feel like a betrayal of the ultimate single-person duty: getting out there.
Even for those who are generally happy with their lives, New Year's Eve can bring a unique kind of stress.
Because where exactly is this "out there" that you're supposed to go? Past experiences might include:
- The random party: That one your friend's cousin heard about. It took an hour and a half to get there, the music was so loud you couldn’t hear anyone talk, and when you finally worked up the courage to introduce yourself to the cute guy making mojitos in the kitchen, he immediately said, “I’m with Kaley.”
- The fixed-price dinner: It seemed like a good idea at first. Why not splurge on great food and champagne with your college friends or pilates buddies? But then Jeremy and Alyson got the $40 lobster add-on, and Jenna and Tom opted for the champagne-tasting menu. When the bill came, Trina (who had both the lobster and the tasting menu) said, “Let’s just split it evenly.”
- Your parents' house: Okay, you knew this definitely wasn’t “out there.” But you’d flown across the country to visit your family for the holidays, and you didn’t need to be back at work until January 3. Staying for New Year’s made sense until December 31 arrived, and you found yourself playing trivia with your parents and their friends, wondering, 'How did this become my life?'
New Year's Eve can really mess with your head. No matter what you do, there’s often this nagging feeling that you 'should' be doing something else. That your ideal life the one where you're sipping amazing champagne, dressed to perfection, and exchanging witty remarks with a crowd of sharp, attractive singles is happening somewhere. And you, unfortunately, are not there.
But here’s the funny thing about New Year’s Eve: whatever you do, you tend to remember it. I have snapshots in my mind of nearly every December 31. I’ve huddled with my best friend trying to hail a cab on an icy Manhattan street. I’ve played charades with people I’d never met before and never saw again. I’ve curled up in my tiny apartment with a cup of tea, reading Lorrie Moore's 'Like Life' as snow fell outside. I’ve been at a glamorous cocktail party, gazing out the window at a woman in a neighboring apartment, sitting at her desk, engrossed in her writing, pausing occasionally to sip champagne.
When I look back at these moments, I realize it doesn’t matter so much whether I had a good time or a bad time that night. Somehow, these memories bring me joy simply because they are part of my life. They remind me that, so far, my life has been full, rich, strange, and wonderful.
The only thing that ever kept me from enjoying New Year’s Eve was the silly idea that I should be doing something else.