We all have mixed feelings about New Year’s Eve. I usually try to steer clear of blanket statements, but I’m confident with this one.  There’s always pressure to end the year with a bang, to start a new one right. Hopes, resolutions, and reflections. It’s a night chock o’ block full of clichés: count downs, noise makers, Auld Lang Syne, midnight kisses. That uncomfortable feeling when the clock strikes and the first moments of a new year are spent avoiding eye contact with a fella you really don’t want to kiss. The feeling of loneliness when the fella you do want to kiss is in another country, another state, or just didn’t manage to show up before midnight. It is a night notorious for high expectations that are rarely met.

My expectations for New Year’s Eve will never be met because they come from watching When Harry Met Sally at age thirteen. The party in the last scene- that’s how I think all adults are supposed to spend NYE.

Sally’s outfit is exactly what I wish I had every year when I rifle through my closet full of clothes thinking I have nothing to wear! Why the hell don’t I own elbow length gloves?! That party is just the right amount of fabulousness, complete with champagne and a disco ball. Sally thinks she is starting the year dateless, but instead her year ends with the perfect, grand romantic gesture. Bah! My New Year’s will never live up to that! I might as well stay home!

Though no one has ever declared their love (or even given me a decent New Year’s kiss), New York City has given me consistently great New Year’s.

2008/2009 The night was spent with five of my best girl friends from college. We had a lovely, reasonably priced dinner  at an Italian restaurant on the UWS. We were the perfect number of people to share a table, feeling classy and just the right balance of low key and fun. We rang in 2009 over beers at the Dead Poet (still one of my favorite bars). Taking the subway home, my cell phone fell down onto the tracks. On New Year’s Day a police man jumped down to recover it (and did NOT get hit by a train), making my first really-cool-New-York moment of 2009.

2009/2010 This was the year Miranda, Charlotte, and I all lived together. We were excited to spend New Year’s together. A snow storm preceeding the 31st lead to the brilliant idea of staying at home and a spur-of-the-moment house party. About 12 people showed up which turned out to be a really fun number. The first moments of 2010 were spent on our roof, blowing smoke rings and noise makers. The door back to the elevator locked on us and we had to climb to another entry-way to re-enter our building. In the hallway we heard the sounds of another party. We looked at each other: Yep. Let’s crash it. Miranda and I were the only women to be found between the four walls, and my first really-cool-New-York moment of 2010 was being called fabulous over and over by 60 or so gay men. Lost my unlimited metro card in a hungover state the next day- didn’t buy another one for 2 whole years!

2010/2011 The Off year, to say the least. I was supposed to work an event in Times Square that night, but police surrounding the area wouldn’t allow me to reach the hotel where the event was taking place. I went home, dejected, and changed into party clothes. I went to a party my friends were throwing up in Hamilton Heights, hoping Safa Boy would join me before midnight. He didn’t. I spent the first hour of 2011 smoking and drinking a huge cup of champagne. I spent the second hour of 2010 throwing up thanks to this disastrous combination. I left the party without making a scene and waited for Safa at the subway stop. Promptly upon his arrival, I threw up- half on the subway platform, half on his pants. My first super-not-cool-but-super-New-York moment of 2011! Got home only to discover I’d left my keys at the party. Continuing the trend of always loosing something on New Year’s Day! I somehow made it to work a promo the next day at 10am. BAM.

2011/2012 Last year! Worked my interactive theater job until 10:30 PM. Made friends with a 4 year-old who only spoke Russian but still thought my character was hilarious. She taught me how to say “Happy New Year!” in russian, I taught her how to say it in english. After work I waded my way through the craziness of Times Square which reached all the way up to my job at 57th and 6th. Ended and started the New Year at a party full of good friends. Danced, drank responsibly, made good choices, no vomiting or loosing things!

And this year? It’s my first year not in NYC since I moved in 2008! I’m ringing in the New Year 3 hours after my beloved city. Weird. 2012 ends and 2013 starts in San Francisco. When my only good friend in the city told me she wanted to ring in 2013 doing midnight yoga, I was stuck with a predicament. Did I really want to start a New Year feeling shitty about how inflexible I am? No! And suddenly, it hit me- why was I not working NYE? With just 3 days to go, I wondered if I could find a job. And I did! Answered an ad on craigslist looking for models- something I would never do in NYC, but figured I’d have a shot here in less image-conscious San Francisco- to work a huge swanky party in downtown SF. That is where I’m off to now! I’ll let you know how it goes!

How are you spending your New Year’s? Hope it’s great! See you in 2013!