Tick Tock

I missed the stroke of midnight.

When the countdown hit zero, and one year turned into the next, I was paying for a glass of champagne. Then I was stuffing change into my wallet. When I turned, I saw couples everywhere kissing. I couldn't think. I forgot what I was supposed to do. I hadn't toasted the New Year, and I hadn't kissed anyone. For a fleeting, fraction of a second, the image of a face flashed across my mind's eye, and in the next fraction, I banished it.

All dressed up in my winter white and big furry hat, I must have looked like a stunned animal caught in headlights.

One of my girls spied me, because she who is The Voice of Reason was there in an instant.

"Happy New Year, my love," she said, leaning in. We clinked flutes, kissed, and hugged. Two more of my girls came over. And the The Lieutenant Commander. More kisses, more hugs.

In the swirl and press of the party, I had lost Surfer Girl, Liz Taylor Jr., L-Diva, and the rest of the group. I felt disassociated, the probable, lingering effects of the hideous, head-cold-throat-gastrointestinal flu I'd suffered all week. Time to skedaddle. I bid my farewells and made for the door.

Now, I could wax rhapsodic about the Italian fellow - Il Romano - who insisted on taking my hand and walking me to the front door of my building. But hey, it was New Years in New York. A moment. Magnitude minus-one. Ephemera.

Once upstairs, safe in my bed, I remembered the thing that La Latina told me last week, "When make-up sex sucks, you know it's over."

Not a new idea, but the kind of sentence-sentiment that guarantees a nod, an acknowledgment, an "I've been there too, and you are right." An affirmation. She's been breaking up and making up with her boyfriend since the moment I met her. That push-me pull-you drama drains a body of energy. She'll move on. I know it.

Hot Momma, another of my girls, worked her way toward ending the stifling relationship with her live-in boyfriend. She broke it to and off with him in early December. But he ain't movin' out for three months. (Hmmm...) Lawd, every man she meets falls for her in the time it takes to have a cocktail conversation. I know at least half a dozen who have taken a number. And they are waiting. Time for her to move on. I hope. It's all I can do.

I want my girls to be bellwethers. But how can I know? It's a roll of the dice. Or to be more hackneyed and more dreadful: "Fate is the fool's word for chance."

In truth, I am eager for the New Year. I don't make resolutions, because I break resolutions.

Put it down to faulty memory - one of the reasons I make a lousy liar. One of the reasons I say I cannot be held to a confidence - because I might forget. (Funny then, that I do keep some confidences, maybe because I forget them.)

One of my long-time guy-buddies once said, "Holly is so optimistic that sometimes I just want to slap her."

So slap me, then. I'm ready.

Comments

[Lynne Breitfeller]

Hello!

[Kerndog]

Nice transition to the New Year Holly. Hope Roma resurfaces and the shaven remains vanquished (at least, that's how I'd write the next chapter)...

[Lindsay]

Hanging with Holly made the end of my year fantasticly fun. I can't wait for more fun. Here's to the year of the dog. Ugh, not more dogs in my life. I think I'll go with GV Wonder's instead. Happy Two Thousand Sex!

[Serial Dater?]

I can't stop laughing. AND I can't wait to see what this year brings. I am truly blessed by God above to a part of this group since its inception. Who needs men? I getting "The Butterfly" and I've got my girls! Happy 2006. PS Comments on my proposed blog name? Guess who I am? LOL.......

[La Latina]

I am working on it querida!! Good karma is all around us.

[karenlach18]

Another year has come and gone, and I am very excited to start anew! I'm so fortunate to have met Holly and her girls. It's been a pleasure and an honor.

I am also quite addicted to this blog. I cannot get enough. Keep on keeping on, and I will continue reading.

Thanks so much for your honesty and your humor.

Love ya,
Karen