New Year's Eve

MFF, Scope, & Dolly Dutchass 2006-12-31

I'm not a New Year's Eve person. Rarely go out. Sometimes, but not every year. The last NYE that I did anything big for was 2 years ago. And this was a GOOD night.

The players:

MFF (My French Friend) who you've met here and here.

Dolly Dutchass - her friend. Going thru a divorce also. Tall. Attractive. Southern accent smooth as butter. Sweet rump.

MFF and I had planned to get together on NYE. I was set to fly down south in the afternoon of the 31st, then we'd check in at one of the big hotels down town that was running a shuttle to the party, Dolly would swing by (first meeting), the girls would get ready, then off to a pre-party, and then go to the big charity thing downtown in the warehouse district.

The plans go off without a hitch*, we go to the party, and have a good time. But, since we are part of a larger group (and not a couple) MFF and I aren't joined at the hip, and we both wander around the various rooms, socializing and having many cocktails. About 11:50, MFF sends me out on the dance floor with a fairly drunk Dolly. We dance two songs (cue white man's over bite), but then hear "10...9...8...

No MFF. She's gone. But, I am holding a very sweet, very attractive woman in my arms, so ...

The kiss was, "invigorating". If you ever have the chance to be the first guy a drunk hottie kisses after filing for divorce, I highly recommend it. But it was just one kiss. And that is the peak of the evening, and it started heading downhill from there. On RAILS!

Long ass story short, omitting 100 boring details (none of which involve sex or the police): I spend the rest of the night playing "Babysitter" to an extremely drunk Dolly Duchass who apologizes profusely and spills her guts (literally and profusely) out on the sidewalk. (I hold her hair. I am a gentleman.) I also play "Cat Herder" for MFF who is having a legitimate good time, and doesn't want to leave the party.

All told, one of the better New Year's Eves of my adult life. Sad, but true.

Everyone have a wicked good time, spring for the cab ride (or some other D.D.), and see you back here tomorrow. ("See you next year" is like finger nails on the chalkboard to me.)

* Do you really want to hear the part about me leaving my reception after my step-grandfather's funeral and racing 150 miles across Illinois to just catch my flight? Didn't think so.