In honor of New Year’s Eve, I thought I’d share a little something from a past celebration. To jog my memory a bit, I started thumbing through my journal (which I started in March…of 2001 – seriously, it’s a wonder I write a post nearly every day, when I can’t fill a notebook with the past seven years of my shenanigans). I came across an early entry about New Year’s 2001, when I had no plans and was, apparently, an extremely jaded sixteen-year-old (with a potty mouth).
He said if they found anything fun, he’d give me a call. It’s okay. I know he won’t. I know that all boys are f***heads. Some are more lovable than others. Some are better liars. Some are better looking. But in the end, they’re all f***heads. It’s a shame really. But even in the end, the nice ones are bad, too. You know, PIC really picked a bad time to leave me. F*** her, too.
What a bundle of joy I was. And not over dramatic at all. Nope. Not. At. All.
Honestly, I read that now and I laugh. It all boils down to my biggest NYE 2001 concern being that I didn’t have plans. (Hey, who ever said teenage girls were rational?) And it could have been worse. I could have had to break up an impending fight, like I did three years ago.
At that time, I was still in Paris after my semester abroad, and some friends from college had come to spend New Year’s Eve there. We were at my then-boyfriend’s apartment (yes, I was cliché and dated a French guy while abroad) and everything was going well – his friends were mixing with mine, and everyone knew enough common language to get by. And then I heard a dispute in the corner.
My friend, J, was super drunk agitated about something and was yelling at one of the French guys. I knew she didn’t speak much French (if any), so I went over to try to mediate the situation.
Liebchen: What’s wrong? What happened?
J: He called me a man!
[French guy looks both confused and shocked]
Liebchen: (to FG) What did you say?
*Note: I don’t remember now exactly what was said. But I DO remember that he in no way called this girl a man.
Liebchen: Okay, J, this is what he said. [explanation] He didn’t call you a man. It’s just a misunderstanding.
J: Don’t you tell me what he said! I know French! I speak French! [Note: NOT TRUE. She speaks Spanish.]
Liebchen: (to J) All right. Why don’t we go over here? (to FG) Walk away, NOW. (Really, it was for his own good. J gets kind of feisty from time to time.)
Thankfully, there were no punches thrown or faces slapped (that was definitely a possibility) and everyone made it out in one piece. But for a while after we DID have to hear her remind us about “that French guy that called me a man!”
Here’s to fewer miscommunications in 2009.