New Year’s Eves of the past

• Nine years ago I pierced my belly button in some seedy store that sold penis-shaped pasta near Piccadilly Circus in London. I was 16 years old and a self-proclaimed BA.
• Two years ago I took a late flight to New York City with B to spend NYE in the most famed way possible. We packed into Times Square with what felt like the rest of the world, sang Jay-Z/Alicia Keys in unison with the crowd and, after midnight, had sushi and $40 bottles of champagne at a fabulous gay bar in Hell’s Kitchen. I was in love with a city and a boy even more that night.
• Last year I cooked lobster tail and steak, ate cannolis and drank five bottles of champagne with B from the confines of what was my apartment, but is now ours. I wouldn’t have spent it any other way.
• This year I’ll head to my favorite, speakeasy-type underground piano bar with B and 10 of our friends. We’ll have a reserved table for 12, two hours of food and almost five hours of open bar. I’ll be wearing red. 

However you choose to spend New Year’s Eve this year, I hope your night is nothing short of magical.