The first week of 2016 came and went unceremoniously for me. I had friends staying until the 5th, which then segued nicely into going back to work on the 6th.
There are so many things I want to do this year, and for the first time in a long time I’ve not felt the urge to make resolutions to try to “change” myself. 2015 was so awesome that the little things that *should* have bothered me, and in fact did bother me in the past, didn’t seem to matter much anymore.
To be honest, at the beginning of last year I was feeling a little…hopeless. I wasn’t happy with my living situation, I wasn’t sure where things were going with my job, and I had just fallen out with someone I used to be good friends with. So even though I’d had an epic Hogmanay celebration and an utterly awesome time on the night, once the bottles of prosecco and empty glasses had been cleared away I felt deflated. Isn’t it strange how everyone who was there that night still talks about the amazing party, but I can’t remember a single meaningful conversation.
So to make up for it, I made a list of New Years Resolutions. There were the usual things, like go to the gym, lose a bit of weight, drink less, spend more time outdoors. Did I do any of them? I started the year all guns-a-blazing, going to the gym twice a day, went on a diet, actually went on a few Tinder dates. Did I keep any of this up past April? Did I FUCK.
I actually stopped going to the gym altogether at one point.
I’d had sessions with a great PT for a few years, but then a “friend” of mine started working at the same gym so I signed up for a few days with him as well. Big mistake. The guy was new and enthusiastic, but he was more keen to show off than make a programme that I would enjoy. I got so frustrated that I quit going entirely, I avoided the gym like the plague. I even stopped my sessions with my original trainer, which was a shame. He was pretty awesome.
As for the Tinder dates? One of them launched into a horrendous anti-Palestinian rant two hours in dinner and drinks, so that probably gives an indication of how well those went. Tinder Date 1 creepily tried to get me and my friend drunk, offering to buy us shots of hard liquor all night and “casually” omitting the fact that he was teetotal. Not drinking is no big deal, a lot of my friends don’t drink. But trying to get someone deliberately smashed whilst you’re sober as a judge? Not ok.
I’m still friends with Tinder Date 3, which is pretty cool though. Thanks dude for not being a psycho.
I had sex with 3 people last year.
I’ve considered myself to be bisexual since I was a teenager, and openly since I was 22. For some reason though – please explain this to me, universe – I keep sleeping with girls who are straight, but who think they aren’t for a brief moment in time. Not good for my own emotional and mental well being, especially if they decide that the way they need to prove their heterosexuality is to belittle me in front of my friends. So that is probably one that *should* be a resolution: Stop Sleeping With Straight Girls.
I have nothing but fabulous things to say about either of the men I slept with last year though. Positive experiences all round.
This time last year, I actually thought I had met all the people I would ever meet in my life. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? I hope that even when I’m 90 years old that silly thought won’t cross my mind again, because in the last 12 months I have met some of the most amazing people when I least expected to. And I will keep meeting awesome, wonderful, inspiring people. All the fucking time.
I went vegan.
I’m not a particularly *great* vegan. I went vegetarian at the beginning of last year, which I can feel an oncoming blog post about. I’d really lost my love for the taste of meat since going to agricultural college, and when I took a step back I realised that a lot of that “taste” I craved was societally ingrained in me. I went on one last massive meat feast blow out with my friend Sam in April to test the waters, decided that steak, albeit delicious, wasn’t *that* great, and haven’t eaten meat since. I just wasn’t enjoying it, I mostly lived on vegetables anyways, so why the hell not.
The veganism was down to a bet. I went a week as a strict vegan in exchange for a pretty spiffy bridge camera. Once the week was through, I stuffed my face with halloumi and Brie and everything tasty from the cheese counter at my local deli. Guess what? I’m lactose intolerant. You know those kids who eat McDonalds every day but don’t realise they feel shitty, because this is just how they feel all the time? That was me with dairy. I still cave occasionally, and I’m sure once or twice I’ve eaten something that has a trace of egg or milk powder in it (I’m looking at you, unverified fake chicken nuggets). At first I beat myself up over it but then I reminded myself why I’m a vegan, and all was right with the world again.
Because I am stubborn and will never turn down a dare.
Of all the things I choose to be militant about, a whisper of egg white in a shop-bought falafel isn’t going to be one of them. Though maybe I should stop buying ready-made food seeing as I love to cook.
I’ve always been someone who cared how others saw me, and I like to be liked. I’m a pleasant person, dammit! But little by little, last year I started to stick up for myself. Started to stick up for my beliefs. Started to call people out on things they said or did that I didn’t agree with, told friends if I wasn’t comfortable with the the way they are putting things across. Holy shit, it was an epiphany. The strangest thing was, it didn’t lose me any friends; in fact, I gained respect in some eyes. It is an incredible feeling, and now I wonder why I didn’t do this years ago.
Many of my friends are musicians, so I always kept quiet about some of the things I listen to when I’m on my own. My dj friends don’t exactly understand my love of musicals and Meatloaf, boybands and country music. Or so I thought. Did I expect to be sitting in my flat with a pretty big Scottish drum and bass dj, belting out all the songs from Aladdin? Probably not. But I did, and it was awesome. Here’s my freak flag, watch it fly.
So this year, I made a conscious decision not to make any resolutions. Sometimes the best stuff happens when you don’t make plans. My life is good and so is everybody in it; so I’m going to keep being my weird self, going to the gym (or for a run) when I feel like it, drinking gin at gigs with my friends, snuggling my dog, blogging about whatever comes into my head, listening to cheesy music, eating too many falafels…and having a damned good time doing it.