Don’t get me wrong — there are few things that make me ‘spark joy’ quite like ordering two to five tequila sodas out at a bar while also stepping in two to five inches of tequila sodas before Ubering home and playing Ribs by Lorde on repeat while crying (yes, I’ve definitely rewatched HBO’S Girls one too many times).
But, for some reason, holidays were never totally my jam. I would always say “Thanksgiving? I’ll just eat mashed potatoes on a Tuesday.” “Halloween? Honey, hand me a Twix bar at 11 AM any day of the week.” (In hindsight, maybe I should seek ‘professional help’ because I feel hating holidays and only bringing up the food they’re associated with is potentially the chic combo of trauma + disordered eating). Anyways, this brings me to the creme de la crop - or rather, creme de la champagne coupe - New Years Eve.
Unlike Halloween, which I have caved under slight group chat pressure to go out for on occasion (I can’t help it, I love a costume pun!),New Years Eve was a holiday I have strictly turned down and set my phone to Do Not Disturb when being discussed. Frequently referred to as ‘Amateur Night,’ by people who probably brag about their whiskey collection on a first date, this is one of the few moments that I can see through their pretentious ways and get what they mean. Getting all dressed up to pay $250 to go to a shitty dive bar that just has like, a gold and silver banner hanging near the bathroom so they can upcharge you while you drunkenly text “do u have my iPhone charger” to an ex you haven’t spoken to in three years until champagne explodes all over you at midnight? Hard pass. So, now that the world is (hopefully) all celebrating New Years Eve my way — why do I feel so weird about it?
First, I must say that I am not annoyed that people will be staying in for the 31st this year. Please, if you’re reading this and your friend who ‘definitelyyyy has the antibodies’ is texting you about a fun, chill rager — immediately send them the Tyra Banks ‘WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU’ gif and turn your phone on Airplane mode and leave it on that until Dr. Fauci developes a vaccine for ‘having the audacity.’ I am lighting all of my candles seance style to magically ensure no one acts a fool this holiday so we can contain Miss Rona. Side note: do seances work if all your candles are from the clearance aisle of TJ Maxx? But rather, I truly feel that the child inside me is coming out when thinking about the idea of everyone doing MY Thing and staying under blankets with sweatpants and all of the delivery food imaginable.
I thought over what this feeling I had, and I think that it boils down to the fact that in lieu of FOMO, I get extreme JOMO: aka The Joy of Missing Out. For some people, getting a full glam squad treatment before wearing a rented outfit in a ‘totally candid’ photo that took twenty tries to get brings them inner happiness. For me? It’s seeing that photo pop up on my Instagram while hand eating spaghetti and saying “God, I’m happy to be in bed right now” to my emotionally distant Chihuahua. Different strokes, different folks? But now, my social media will be filled with MULTIPLE POSTS on ‘the gram’ of people homebound this year, with captions like ‘all dressed up and nowhere to go’ or ‘different kinda NYE this year’. Remember when people used to write plays and now we just tweet?
It almost feels like when you went to a King Princess concert in 2018 in Brooklyn and felt super cool because that one coworker you make small talk with was like, “is that a Pokemon?” and now suddenly they’re “everyone’s favorite artist”. My emotionally immature self throws a tantrum, shouting to the world that people don’t get to claim my favorite as your fave – because how else can I call my personality unique? By painting? Isn’t it so sad that we develop ourselves by either feeding into something or fully rejecting it? Is there a psychological term for that — or better yet, has Taylor Swift written a song about it?
Regardless, you all will be almost definitely (and hopefully) taking my thing this year. Because I am nice, and mainly because I feel I need to enter 2021 with all the good karma I can, I decided to end this by sharing with you a few ways to ensure you have a Proper New Years In: I mean, you’re already in sweats I’m assuming, so stay in those but I would say throw on a fun sweater. Yes, when you regularly stay in on multiple holidays, you start to become that aunt who calls things like wine glasses and articles of clothing ‘fun’. On top of that, you need upwards to 75 blankets that you can throw on and off of you as you radiate from ‘too hot!’ to ‘kinda chilly’ while flipping around NYE live coverage, or as I like to call it “Where In The World Has ABC Sent Lucy Hale NOW?”.
Most importantly? You don’t need a take out order — you need orders. This is a day being celebrated around the entire world, and your Seamless order history should immediately reflect that. I’m talking scallion pancakes with your eggplant parmigiana, and maybe throw in some enchiladas because when you’re in your own home, that means you’re also within walking (or crawling) distance of your own bathroom. Plus, most New Year’s Eve nights end with a weird combination, so instead of your friend from college and your coworker hooking up this year, it’s just your plate sauces mixing together. So let’s raise a glass while sitting in our favorite section of our couches and cheers to whatever this year was being over.