Anybody who knows me knows that I don’t do New Year – almost as much as I don’t do glittery eyeshadow or seafood. I find the whole thing an absolute farce, from the awkwardly cringe worthy countdown to midnight, to the painfully forced rendition of Auld Lang Syne (which, by the way, is potentially the worst song in living creation.) When you couple that with the simple fact that I don’t really like staying up past midnight -I’m a ten hours of sleep a night kind of girl – then you’ve pretty much got an occasion which is, for me, as enjoyable as a root canal. If that isn’t enough, it also spells the beginning of the whole ‘New Year, New Me’ situation –which is undoubtedly the most irksome part of the whole New Year ordeal. Now, it’s not very often that cynicism takes a prevalent role in my mind-set, but it’s no secret that this mantra brings out a jaded part of me that ordinarily doesn’t exist. That’s because I most ardently disagree with the notion that life is suddenly going to change because it’s January, and that someone can suddenly wake up in a whole new year and be everything they ever wanted to be. It’s far too cliché. Because if someone really wants to change a part of their life, they’ll change it – without waiting until January 1st to do it.
For that reason I’ve spent 26 years unashamedly believing that New Year’s Resolutions are kind of dumb, never having any inclination to make one.
But this year it’s different. This year I’ve actually come to realise there is one very very important resolution that I need to make. And – if I do say so myself – it’s a really, really good one.
Before I tell you what it is, allow me to slightly digress and tell you a little bit about my love life.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to painstakingly regale my entire dating history for the past ten years – that would be as miserably tragic as the tradition of singing Auld Lang Syne at 12:01 on January 1st – instead I’ll give you a summarised fast track of how it went. I was single. I dated. I met some mean boys. The mean boys made me cry. I swore off boys altogether. I repeated the stages of meeting mean boys and crying over mean boys for a lot more years than was sensible, because I was a seriously slow learner when it came to dating. Fast forward to 2013 and I was fortunate enough to meet a boy who wasn’t mean. And the more I knew him, the more I realised just how not mean he was. He didn’t avoid my messages, he didn’t untactfully point out that my hair looks rubbish unless it’s curly, he didn’t make me text the 2-4-1 cinema discount code because he didn’t want to pay for my ticket. Instead he was the boy who sent me 23 birthday cards to make up for the all the birthdays I’d had before we met, and the boy who left little presents in my coat pocket so I’d find cute surprises throughout the day. Four years down the line and he’s still just as perfect. But me? Well, I’m ashamed to say that I got lazy. I didn’t mean to, but such close proximity to something so magnificent, after time, left me complacent and – I guess – a little blind to the remarkable thing right in front of my own eyes. That was wrong.
Because he really is remarkable – and there isn’t one single day that should pass by where I don’t let him know just how remarkable. You see this boy doesn’t just have a good heart, or a kind heart, he has the BEST heart. I know that – I even say it quite often – but I don’t always show it. At least not to the extent that he deserves.
That’s why my resolution this year- and for as many years as he’s crazy enough to let me stick around and bug him senseless – I’m going to show this wonderful person just how wonderful he is. I still won’t be as good as he is – and I probably never ever will be – but I can certainly do a whole lot better than I have been doing. Because he’s the best boy I’ve ever known. With all the others I struggled to even make a rough sketch, but with him? Well, with him I’m making an oil painting. If that isn’t worth a New Year’s Resolution then I don’t know what is.