WORST NEW YEAR’S EVE EVER

It was in my extreme youth. New Year’s Eve was looming, I had no boyfriend and I was desperate for a date.   So, I said”Yes” when he asked.

I’d met him in the College Bridge Club.   Not that I was hooked on Bridge but I enjoyed playing cards and there were more guys than girl players,several of whom I fancied.    Kev ( not his real name) was  also a member and occasionally I got stuck with him as a partner.   His hands were clammy  and his lips always wet.   He threw sheep’s eyes at me over his tightly clutched cards and each time he bid hearts… oh dear… his eyes would go gooey behind his goggly glasses .  I did my best not to notice.   His best pal was one of the guys that I fancied and, who knew what might happen if I stayed pally with Kev.  And I only mean pally.  I did not lead him on.

But I didn’t know then, that, for some guys, being pally is catnip .   Even giving them the time of day is leading them on.   I grew up with three brothers.   I talk to guys like I’d talk to them.    It still gets me in trouble.  So, when I was dateless on New Year’s Eve and Kevin asked if I’d like to come to a New Year’s Eve Ball with him and  his friends I said “Yes”

I had my first qualm when I realised he was not wearing a dress suit.    Perhaps the “Ball” was not quite the glittering event I’d imagined and I was glad I had choosen to wear a short skirt and a glittery top.   He  wore oversized, thick, woolly gloves.   But hey… he had  his Dad’s car and, when we met up with his friends sure… who knew what might happen.

We drove out to Bray to some mouldering Palais de Dance.    His pals were not the guys from the Bridge Club, they were two fellas he knew from his branch of the Fianna Fail party.  And one of their sisters.   I worked my social skills to the nth but, boy,  they were hard work.   We got a table and ordered drinks.   We had a choice of  lemonade, orangeade or pineapple juice!   No licence!   Not even on New Year’s Eve.  No glass of wine to ease the pain.   Yikes!  I let up a bit on my social skills.

Midnight came…eventually.   It involved singing and kissing.   Let’s pass over the  wet lips, the flabby tongue and the pain in my jaw from keeping it clamped.   Finally it was time to go home.   Kevin drove via the Vico road… so that we could admire the full moon over Killiney Bay.   Yeah very nice, very cold.  It could be lovely if only…I waited for him to start up the car but  he just sat there.

“The moon…” he said  after an awkward silence…” isn’t it terrible romantic.”

Oh-oh…  I scrabbled around in my brain for a formula would put him off but wouldn’t be hurtful.  Just  “No” seemed unnecessarily harsh.

Then came the lunge.   Next thing I found his hand  snaking its way under my sparkly top.   As I wrestled him off I felt the scratchy caress of wool on my bare naked skin.   He still had his  gloves on!

Surely that’s some kind of insult?