New Year.

I fell asleep in the new year as the big spoon.

After an evening spent in the company of the finest folks, at the best establishment, with food and drink a-flowing like that of a speakeasy, I went home tipsy tomato and wrapped my big ole body of mine around my cat, Guji.

Did I have you fooled?

Let’s go back to New Year’s Eve though, which may have well been one of the most memorable celebrations I’ve ever had.

New Year’s Eve isn’t typically one of my favorite holidays. Historcally, they’ve been filled with drunk people, obnoxious fireworks in the middle of the night, and I have one horrible memory of falling asleep in the hot tub as my sister and boyfriend made out and my old friend FaceTimed her boyfriend, leaving me sad and rejected.

Like I said, not my favorite holiday, and you can see why. Sure, it used to be a real exciting event as a kid, getting to stay up all the way to midnight, but as you get older, bedtimes become earlier (at least for me), and it takes all of my energy to even stay awake and “ring in the new year.”

But not this year.

This year is different. It’s the end of one decade and the start of another. And we’re ringing in the ‘20’s, and you know I can’t resist me some prohibition style gala celebration.

Anyhoo, my New Year’s Eve was spent holed up in Addie Camp. A blizzard, making its way down from Homer, was raging by the time our doors opened and there was an eerie quietness outside, quite the opposite of the hubbub going on indoors.

To my left, a 5 piece band played swing music. Upstairs, there was a dance floor, which begged the company of those dancing queens (and kings). In front of me, the kitchen cooked, sending out dish after dish of delicious courses, paired expertly with wine. In the corner, a photo booth waited patiently for models, capturing their joy with a single flash. Around me were a flutter of persons from the past: flapper dresses, head pieces, striped suits, and boas.

I was sent off early; unfortunately, the majority of the community chose to stay at home and forego gay celebration, so the number of patrons were few.

But they were mighty.

Cozied up against the storm, I spent hours enjoying myself. I danced the night away, I ate and drank to my heart’s content (full? have another glass of bubbly. Not full? have another glass of bubbly), I smiled and I laughed and there was no crew, and no place I would have chosen in the world over this one to ring in the New Year.

It was that memorable.

As the countdown commenced, hosted by my very tipsy dad, I looked around at all of these people, most I knew, some I didn’t, and I felt so proud to be in the company of these fine folks celebrating such a monuments occasion.

I ended one year happy, and started the other feeling just the same.

Let 2020 begin.

Cheers!

Two Cents(itive).

It’s not often that I get home from a date with the sensation of self-discovery.

It’s not often I go on dates, period, but the few I have been on usually leave me feeling anything but enlightened.

I’ve felt hurt, like that one time I was dropped off at Golden Gate Bridge and asked to order an Uber because he didn’t want to drive me the rest of the way home.

I once got home from a date feeling uncomfortable, for the guy took my movie date as an invitation for sex, which was quite the miscommunication. Talk about awko taco…

After one date I felt confusion, for the guy said he loved spending time with me than never texted me back.

Oh, and the one date in Hyde Park that never happened! That was a third date and the guy stood me up, leaving me to walk home in the rain and subsequently consume an entire bottle of wine and disappear into the tracks of G-Eazy’s When It’s Dark Out album.

But this date I had the other night, which I wouldn’t call a date so much as.. an evening spent in the company of a man I quite enjoy spending time with, ended up leaving me feeling vulnerable and raw.

Though he doesn’t live here, and though this is only the second time I’ve gone out with him, I’ve found that in his company, I open up.

Not just about topics that scratch the surface, but topics that I don’t talk to people about, ever.

Sure, they get written about in my journal and they permeate my subconscious on the daily, but to open up about them out loud and to someone I’ve only hung out with twice?

Rare.

Though my date insists that we as individuals help ourselves, I believe that it takes a special kind of person to help people like me get in touch with parts of themselves they’re insecure with. The parts that I’m embarrassed to talk about, or shameful of. It’s people like him, without prying or pressuring, who know what to say and how to say it that makes it easier for me to be vulnerable, to talk about these insecurities and worries that plague my heart; which therefore opens up real conversation (not just fluff stuff like what’s your favorite color and do you have any siblings).

Do you think you’re beautiful? Why do you think that way? What makes you think you’ll never find someone?

And no chance of lying, you can read right through me!

So for four hours, over four drinks, we talked, and I mean talked. And when I went home for the night after dropping him off, I felt… closer to myself. Like, having approached these topics outloud, they were real, and therefore I could face them, head on, and not just ignore them in my head.

For awhile afterward I tried to understand what it was about him, or me, or the two of us talking together that enabled me to open up like so, but I don’t think I have to understand it to enjoy it.

I like the way he makes me feel, plain and simple. I like the way I can talk about myself to him and I like the way he allows me to process and articulate my thoughts out loud because it ends up leaving me to discovery, which is how I felt at the end of the night.

Like I mentioned earlier, these thoughts have only ever been inside my head or scribbled ferociously in my journal, and whilst I process and heal with writing, I don’t get immediate feedback or outward perspective I would otherwise get with someone with an objective point of view.

I’ve got some personal stuff I need to work on (don’t we all), and I’ve got to get in touch with the girl I used to know, who used to be mine. Happy, beautiful (inside and out), passionate, and confident.

Without even realizing it though, I already took one step closer to getting back to that girl. It takes courage to be vulnerable, to act in spite of fear and imperfection, and on that night, I embraced my sensitivities.

Therefore, I was courageous.

And I’ll take that as a big step forward..