I'm Doing Nothing on New Year's Eve and, Honestly, You Should Too
Tonight is going to be the best night ever.
This is what we tell ourselves each New Year's Eve as we crouch in front of a poorly lit mirror doing our best to apply the most sparkly eyeshadow and the reddest lip.
Tonight is going to be full of magic.
This is what we whisper to ourselves as we adjust the hem of our dress, walk down the hallway to make sure the heel is high but still comfortable enough to endure hours of dancing.
Tonight sets the tone for the rest of the year to come.
This is what we've convinced ourselves, or been convinced by others, as we look around the crowded bar, head aching from the music that's too loud, looking for a stranger to kiss at midnight.
But at some point during the evening, despite our self assurances and repeated mantras, things turn sour. Our friends are late getting to the party. The cover charge at the bar is astronomical — the drinks more so. The crowd is overflowing, resulting in spilled drinks and elbows to the face. You lose the spirit you had at the start of the night and end up half-heartedly faking your way through "Auld Lang Syne." New Year's Eve is undoubtedly the night with the highest expectations of the year; it's also the night that delivers the least.
To be fair, it's our fault. As a society we have created far too much lore around the holiday. According to History.com, new year celebrations date back to 2,000 B.C. That's 4,000 years of expectations we've put onto one night. Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan finally reuniting on New Year's Eve in When Harry Met Sally alone is enough to make anyone have hope that the last night of the year can be filled with magic. We're the ones who keep drinking up this myth of the life-changing New Year's Eve and internalizing it, as if these Hollywood fictions are somehow more likely to become real than any sci-fi plot.
But here's the thing: Deep down, you probably already know that New Year's Eve is set up to be a yearly disappointment. And I am here to give you the support and permission to not participate. New Year's Eve is that 10k you signed up for months ago but never ended up training for, and now you're desperate to get through the run. But, my friend, you can step away from the track. Take off those tennis shoes and put on your slippers. Life is better over here, on the couch. Forget the Gatorade, have a warm cup of chamomile.
In giving yourself permission to forgo New Year's Eve, you immediately erase all the expectations that come with the night. What will you wear? Sweatpants, I hope. Who will you be with? You, yourself, and you. Where will you go? Your favorite spot on the couch. What will you do? Maybe watch a movie, read a book, hey, watch the ball drop if you're feeling festive. No expectations means no disappointment. And even if you can't shake the belief that what you do on New Year's Eve predicts how your next year will go, you can rest assured knowing that on New Year's Eve you were taking care of yourself, being kind to yourself, and relaxing — all things we can stand to do a little bit more of in the coming year.
This New Year's Eve, I will be wearing a fluffy robe that is too big for me and ridiculous fuzzy socks. I will be propped up in bed by what some might argue is too many throw pillows. I will have a cup of tea or a glass of wine (or two). I will watch one of my favorite movies and perhaps face mask while I do it. And I will go to bed early, knowing that I've had a completely lovely evening and that tomorrow is just another day.
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