So what did I do last New Years? None of those things of course. Why? Well, deep down I knew that if I did those things, I would have resented not having the chance to do what I did do.

New Years Eve Morning

8am NYE, I wake up. I exchange a bunch of texts and find out on the first night in a week my girlfriend, who we will call Canasian (as she was Canadian and Asian) didn’t stay at my place she goes out with her male friends, gets fucking blind hammered and one of them goes home with her to sleep on her couch. Apparently.

This really doesn’t sit well with me. I do believe she didn’t mess with the guy (she’s seen how being cheated on can drive people to suicide amongst other things) but on top of a whole host of other shit, it all just came to a head. It was like throwing a grenade into a shipping container full of manure, C4 explosives & broken promises (i.e. our relationship.) Fast forward to midday and Canasian and I are broken up, again. We’d broken up so many times in 3 months, I’d literally lost count. It was somewhere over 10 though. I knew that this was the last time because I’d finally cracked it harder than a fat kid who was promised McDonalds only to have his parents change their mind at the last minute.

So, instead of spending new years with the people I love (friends, family) I resolve to stay home alone, feel sorry for myself, play computer games and get hammered (kids, hypocrisy is easier to rationalize when you have alcohol.)

I walked out of work, trammed it to my local bottlo, picked up an 8 pack of Teddy Platinum’s (1.8 standard drink 8% beers, life destroyers) and headed home. I’d slammed 6 of these puppies when I get a text from an ex-girlfriend, Marla. She’s going to a club called “Next” with some friends and says I should tag along. It’s right near my house.. so I figure “yeah.. good idea!” [6 beers in.]

So I eat something, ease myself out a bit, grab a pack of Stuyvos and head to Next. I hadn’t smoked since 6 months beforehand on a date with Pedestal Truckie, and it was like putting the required candles on my self destructive cake.

$40 entry later I’m hit with a bunch of memories. The middle floor, where I fell over smashed the year before. The rooftop, where I made out with Marla and then her friend – in front of Marla – for 5 minutes. Plus Marla’s ex-girlfriend was there, who I’d hooked up with both with Marla and away from Marla. And their current cliché Gayboy buddy.

So I’d sat down and it took about 30 seconds to realize this place is teh gay. I’d gotten there around 9, so it was a long wait for the inevitable click over. I was thankful for the invite and excuse to head out.. but I spent the next few hours drinking $4 pots of Carlton draught and chain smoking while looking depressed (my usual club persona.) I got a bunch of texts and phone calls from Canasian.. she left voicemails which I could barely hear over the music. She asked me to come over about 40 minutes before the big click.. but I didn’t bite.

Sometime after a random guy tells me I looked pissed off, Gayboy says “I just took this cube of LSD and Heroin.. you’re going to have to look after me”

It was around this time I looked up at the night sky and realized my options are limited. Despite wanting it before walking into the place, I’m not really that interested in making out with and fucking the drunk skanks. I don’t want sloppy seconds (especially not knowingly) no matter how thin or dolled up they are. I’m nowhere near any state to pull a chick I don’t already know because I’m drunk, depressed, pissed off, and anti-social. Not to mention I was too drunk to realize I was too drunk to fuck.

Midnight

So I’m buying another pot when the big moment finally happens. I’m resenting myself, Canasian and almost anything to make me feel worse. I might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said “free negative energy all night!”

Then I got a text from a 20 year old chick I know (who I’d never hooked up with) saying “I’m going to be in the city tonight” to which I reply “well if you wanna hook up with a drunk and horny guy, let me know.”

Marla and her ex-girlfriend are there, and I know I could swing a threesome, but I didn’t want to as I was still rational enough to know I wanted to go forwards, not backwards. Yes, “new” isn’t necessarily better, and it sure as shit doesn’t know you like your nipples licked.. but I’m all about the novelty of new experiences (read: girls.)

I continue to get hammered, blow money and generally just have a below par time screaming to late 90′s metal in the sweaty bar when the 20 year old replies to my fairly overt message, saying she wants to meet up. She’s cute, tall, has a good body, and knows me, so this is like a B grade movie where the guy you think died earlier on comes in to save the day at the last minute when everything has fully gone to shit.

Then she texts me again.

And again.

Come see me. Doooo it.

Plz come :( For my birthday.

I’ll even come to Next if you want

*harrasses*

So, of course, I asked her what she was wearing..

“A red and black mini dress. And my favourite heels. And a red bow in my hair.

I guess you’re thinking about now “WOW Towny, things really turned around!!!”

Guess again.

The problem with those delicious texts are.. they happened at 2pm THE NEXT FUCKING DAY. My phones battery had died before I received any of them, meaning I was withdrawing money from the club’s ATM and finishing off my smokes being an emo cunt (not even the kind of emo cunt that gets insecure emo pussy) while I could have been hooking up with this girl who was 2 blocks away in my apartment which was 2 blocks away. Why did I ask her what she was wearing the night before? Because I fucking hate myself of course!

That isn’t even the worst part. I texted her “If you had come back to my place last night, what would have happened?”

I probably would have let you do anything you wanted. I’m kinda inexperienced.

Old me might have wanted to punch a wall or something, but I just ended up just laughing.. laughing all the way to pornhub.com to work out the sheer frustration of the whole godam situation.

Meanwhile..

But back to the previous night, I don’t remember getting home. I don’t remember if I got into a fight. I don’t remember if I was a cunt to anyone. All I know is, I can’t keep up the illusion that I’m moving ahead anymore because I spent the first few hours of 2010 blitzed out of my head, wasting all my money and being an irresponsible douche, just like I was a year before, and the year before that.

2009 wasn’t so bad.. I lost 20 kilos, I got my drivers licence, I had girls fall in love with me & I got a promotion at work.. but all of that doesn’t seem have made any difference. I’m still fucking things up like an 18 year old.

I’m beginning to think that working to be a good person doesn’t count for a lot. It doesn’t pay the bills.. it doesn’t put food in your mouth. It doesn’t make relationships work and it doesn’t make you happy. The only thing I do get from being a good person is a piece of dogmatic bullshit to self-righteously justify my actions in an argument. But that just prepares me for conflict and enables me to martyr myself.. I’d rather just not have to be in that position at all.

But then again, am I even a “good person” ? or a just another deluded asshole who thinks his shit doesn’t stink? The only thing I DO know is, all I woke up with on new years day was an empty wallet, $2 in the bank (2 days after pay day) and 2 bags of Doritos* next to my bed.

* and 20k in debt