New Year's Day

So much for a fresh start.

New Year's Day is traditionally greeted with a raging hangover, a full English breakfast, and a sense of unease as you slowly begin to recall what happened the night before. This year, however, I woke hangoverless and alone (parents presumably having gone to the pub), emptied the dishwasher listening to my mother's borderline-depressive The Script album, and generally felt a little bit sorry for myself.

Last night was interesting, in the way that gastroenteritis, literary critical theory and Facebook statuses about parties you weren't invited to are interesting. My claims that I was too unwell to go out became something of a self-fulfilling prophecy (Karma's a vindictive bitch), so I rang in the new year with stomach cramps, chills and an inability to eat or drink anything without feeling violently ill. I also received a series of drunken Whatsapp messages from the Boy, who decided that 2am was a great time to update me on how his night was going. "Punxh claimed first vixtim at 12 midnight exactly. Ot's alright I kissed girflforend so he's okqy."

I deduced from this (and from subsequent misspelled missives) that one of his friends was too busy throwing up to kiss his girlfriend as 2013 began, so the Boy kindly stepped in and did the honours. Three times. As any good friend would.

Following my overtones of disapproval at his attempts to justify himself (including but not limited to "it was only a joke", "she always liked me but nothing serious", "it was friendly", "it didn't mean anything", and "he won't find out", only less well-spelled), I was informed that I love the idea of such debauchery, but I am too afraid and guilty to pursue it myself, so I live vicariously through him.

With this scathing character critique in mind, my New Year's To Do List:

1. Get promoted.
2. See my friends more; plan more exciting things to do.
3. Stop buying so many things I don't need and can't afford.
4. Stop dancing in a wildly inappropriate fashion with guys from work, particularly those who have girlfriends.
5. Stop getting so out-of-control drunk that I think the above is not only acceptable, but a marvellous idea with zero repercussions.
6. Stop correcting people's grammar.
7. Be nice to everybody, even people I find intensely irritating.
8. Stop thinking about the Boy.
9. Stop talking about the Boy.
10. Stop waiting for the Boy to move to London, realise we'd be perfect together and ask me out.

God damnit.