The last hours of 2008

I'm glad that I remained in New York City rather than going home to NJ for New Year's. The people I spent it with are so...distinctive that I will probably look back on with wonderment for years to come.

I began the night by inviting my 38 year old suitor (T.) over. We hadn't seen each other for a week or so, and I was really looking forward to it. We sat on my bed and reacquainted ourselves. I've already gotten past the facts like his age, but it has yet to be seen if it will work in practice. I played him some of my music and we kissed and hugged. His hands are effeminately soft. When my face is inches away from his, I examine it for wrinkles. There is nothing I can explicitly call a wrinkle, just some creases that are absent on the faces of men my age.

Anyway. We open a bottle of wine I had and I shared it with our other companions for the night. There's my beautiful Italian roommate, my beautiful French roommate, and the French roommate's ex-boyfriend. He was visiting from France, and they broke up while he was still here. I was secretly disappointed that I was obligated to share with everyone, as that meant I only had one glass, which is not enough to affect me.

As most of you may recall, New Year's Eve night was bone-chillingly cold. Nonetheless, I wore a dress, tights and these Payless booties.

At least I wore a big coat though. T. only wore a blazer. The journey to the restaurant was only 15 minutes, but we struggled. There were highs and lows and winds that almost knocked me over. We reached the restaurant and we sat at a table. Soon, the Italian roommate's friends came too. I resisted not touching T. until I was suitably tipsy from the red wine we drank. We held hands, and I placed my head on his shoulder when the alcohol hit me the worst.

I ordered eggplant parmesan, or something to that effect. T. ordered asparagus ravioli. Mine arrived last, and he gave me some of his food, which leads me to believe he truly likes me, not just my youthful body (which he hasn't even seen in its entirety yet, I am proud to say.)

Midnight snuck up on us. All of a sudden, it was almost time. We kissed at 12 because we had to, and it was the first time I got a kiss at midnight. I didn't see what my French roommate and her ex-boyfriend did, if anything, because I was in my own little world. After a minute of celebrating, we returned to our meals. It was around 1, and we didn't even get dessert. I just wanted to sleep.

We braved the elements once again to get back to my apartment and get my bag. I was sleeping at T's place. He lives in Brooklyn, which is only half an hour or so away, but looks like a different world. We tried for a little while to get a taxi, but I knew we would be out of luck. We hopped on the subway. His apartment was so, so cold, since his downstairs neighbor or landlady or whatever she is wasn't home and therefore did not have the heat on.

"I'm not usually a cuddler in bed, but this will keep us warm," T. said as we lay in bed.

It did. But I can't sleep in someone's arms. Mine are inevitably bent at odd angles, or soon go numb or my neck is bent strangely. We shivered through the night.