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"You have to have sex on New Year’s or you curse yourself for the next year,” said my friend Alessandro. Apparently this is a superstition back in his hometown of Milan, but something about it stuck with me. Although I hate complicating my life with new superstitions, I could not bare the thought of putting my sex life in any form of jeopardy.
Normally such a task would not be a strenuous undertaking. Whether it’s a boyfriend or a boy toy, I almost always have someone in the picture to have sex with when the mood strikes me. Nevertheless, this New Year’s Eve, I found myself extremely alone. 2003 had been a good year for lovers but a bad year for love, and my favourite fuck friend had been M.I.A. for quite some time. If I wanted to have sex this New Year’s, I was going to have to start from scratch.
New Year’s is generally an easy time to pick up. Everyone wants to kiss someone at midnight and, with –10 degree temperatures on the horizon, most people are simultaneously looking for a steady bed mate to keep them warm for the next few months. Although New Year’s parties guarantee to provide a large quantity of potential partners, they do not necessarily supply anyone of quality for the taking. In fact, the multitude of desperate, unattractive people on the prowl preying on innocent party-goers can actually deter one from meeting anyone worthwhile. This was my dilemma. If I was going to have sex to rid myself of Alessandro’s curse, I would have to keep my eyes open for the attractive guys or wind up going home with one of 2003’s less desirable leftovers.
I began the evening drinking heavily with my girlfriends, Lynn and Cindy, before working our way to S.A.T. where Lynn had plans to meet up with a guy whom she met the night before. While big, impersonal parties are not really my favourite way to ring in the New Year, Cindy and I felt obliged to our friend to facilitate her hook up, and maybe a big crowd would make my job a lot easier.
I was wrong, of course. After paying five dollars to drink a couple spoonfuls of wine from a plastic Dollarama wineglass whilst a hideous hobbit of a man asked me about my resolutions, I was ready to change venues. After the countdown, Lynn was already on her way to coat check with her new love, so Cindy and I felt free to leave and were pleased to rid ourselves the hobbit.
After a pit stop at Burger King, we hopped in a cab and headed for a Cindy’s friend’s party on the promise that, according to Cindy, there would be beautiful boys. Upon our arrival, the host of the party met us at the door and explained that a lot of his guests had already moved on to other parties. It was only two hours into the new year, and already I was having bad luck.
Once inside, I scanned the room for potential hook ups. Nothing—or at least nothing I would normally go home with—and I knew I would never be able to get a taxi at this hour to take me to another party. Rather than admit defeat, I decided to blur my vision with more alcohol. After a few more drinks, I made my rounds of the party until I finally settled on what I thought was an average looking fellow sitting in the living room and started small talk. He wasn’t particularly interesting, nor was he particularly attractive. In fact, the more he spoke, the more I realized he looked a lot like the hobbit we left back at S.A.T. Nevertheless, like teenagers at a high school party, we found a vacant room at the back of the party and started ripping at each other’s clothes.
I couldn’t concentrate. Although I have nothing against casual sex, I was mad at myself for going so low just for the sake of a superstition.
I tried picturing someone else—my ex-boyfriend, my fuck friend, that cute waiter at my favourite diner—but when I opened my eyes, there was this less than average man pulling down my underwear. I did not want to start the new year like this, not with some dork of a man whose face would haunt me for months to come.
“I can’t do this,” I insisted without an explanation.
“Do you want to go back to my place instead?” he bargained, obviously wondering where my hesitation was coming from.
“No. I’m sorry. I just can’t do this,” I said as I put my dress back on and left the room. I found Cindy who was experiencing the same bad luck as me, and we decided to head home empty handed. Maybe I had jinxed myself for 2004, but starting the new year with a undesirable guy would probably be an even greater curse. Although I generally don’t make resolutions, this year I resolve not to settle in love or sex. I would rather be alone than with a hobbit.
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