Happy Fucking New Year, bitches!

Drinking a second mini-bottle of champagne, wondering why I used to like the stuff, and pondering New Year's Eve. I had an invitation with a very nice gentleman (Mr. Too-sweet) to 'hang out,' meaning watch movies, cuddle on the couch, and mentally count the minutes it took him to screw up the courage to make a move. Usually the shoulder massage, then on to calculated absent-minded hair playing, then maybe a kiss if I'm lucky, something chaste and appropriate.

Yet I'm home at 10:36pm, writing my virginal blog, and musing on a resolution list. Instead my reverse list. Behold:

Things I wanted to Happen in 2009

1) Mr. Tie-me-up would have said "I love you"

2) All my PET scans would have come back clean and I wouldn't have spent 6.5 months worried my cancer had returned FOR NOTHING (still thank zombie Jeebus it was a false alarm. Please don't curse me with your voodoo magic.)

3) My hair would have grown back thick and lustrous, a curly mop of casual perfection instead of stick straight and a muddy brown

4) I would not have gotten very drunk and slept with Mr. Lucy-as-a-man after the Tie-me-up breakup. Add to that Mr. Brilliant-with-my-hands drunken sex.

5) I would tell Mr. Tie-me-up that I needed him. That I loved him.

6) Mr. Tie-me-up care enough to ask me to come back.

7) I would have gotten a new job that was fulfilling and well-paying.

In review of my anti-resolutions, I propose the following for 2010: stop worrying about everyone else and enjoy your life. Instead of getting a ritualistic kiss, I realize I actually am happy at home, drinking cheap champagne and wearing my fuzzy socks. Tomorrow is for living, not musing on the past.

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Happy New Year's world. I love you and I'm happy to finally be a part of you!

xoxo Miss Lucy