I'm Feeling 32

When you are single on New Year's Eve in New York, there are a million things you could be doing. Head into Times Square to brave the cold and the crowds, wait for the ball to drop and hope your face ends up on television. Scrounge up an invite to a friend's party and get drunk on cheap champagne. Go to a restaurant or club and dance the night away with strangers. Or you can settle in for a lobster dinner with your parents, mix your Cosmo too strong, and kiss your cat at midnight.

Guess which one I did???

My holiday wasn't nearly as depressing as it sounds (and believe me, I know how it sounds!) The truth is that I have a nasty cold and was just as happy to curl up with a box of Kleenex and a pair of plaid flannel pajamas I bought in a clearance sale at Old Navy earlier this week. I would have been miserable at a party where everyone knows everyone, or people are coupled off with a significant other to kiss. I couldn't possibly risk kissing someone anyway without taking the chance of sneezing on them! And even if I could, I am past the age of random hook ups being even remotely satisfying. Instead, I shall leave one night stands and jaeger bombs to the twentysomething size two stiletto clad girls in too tight dresses nipping at my sensible heels. They need to sow their wild oats more than I do. My oats these days are mostly about lowering my cholesterol and incorporating more fiber into my diet anyway.

So how does one spend the last night of 2013? Personally, I spent it the way I would any other occasion as a single thirty-two year old trying to ward off symptoms of becoming Bridget Jones. Most days, I'm really happy with my life, my friends, my job, my apartment, my writing. Other days, I think I'm one branch of mistletoe away from overdosing on vodka and singing along to Celine Dion in my skivvies. Everyone I know is getting engaged, married, or pregnant during the holidays. I'm just getting drunk.

And so it came to pass that I found myself flipping through the channels last night, landing on When Harry Met Sally which happens to be the perfect New Year's Eve movie. As I sat with Cosmo in hand and cat on lap, I imagined myself opening the door at 11:55 to discover the man I love waiting on my doorstep. He would make a heartfelt speech about his deep and abiding feelings for me, how we're perfect for each other, how happy I make him despite our quirks and qualms and complications. In my head, we argue back and forth a bit before the clock strikes twelve and he grabs me and kisses me because he never wants to let go of me. And we spend all of our New Years together for as long as we both shall live.

Then I remember that my life is not directed by Rob Reiner. I pour another drink and flip on another Meg Ryan film. Because if you're going to wallow in your own stubborn independence, you may as well have good role models.

When Sally finds out that her ex is getting married, she freaks out and asks Harry to come over in the middle of the night. (Which he does and they sleep together. Sorry --- spoiler alert!) In the midst of her tears, Sally exclaims "And I'm gonna be forty!" as though this signals the end of the world. Harry says "When?" to which Sally replies "Someday!" Harry pointedly reminds Sally that she will be forty "In eight years!" Do the math: I am the same age now as Sally in that movie!

This got me thinking about being thirty-two and single. I am the same exact age as the controlling Sally, the spiraling Bridget, and even my beloved New York icon Carrie Bradshaw. Forgive me for saying it but does anyone else remember when 32 was OLD?!?! Now it feels like I'm living the music video for the parody of Taylor Swift's "22" *Note: In case you've been hiding under a rock since last April when the song came out, watch the video here: I'm Feeling 32* My newsfeed is clogged with pictures of other people's babies, I'm totally broke, and all I want to do is eat blocks of cheese in my sweatpants with a box of wine, a good book, and an obscenely early bedtime. I even joined Weight Watchers and went to the dentist. Ok, fine... I've been *meaning* to go to the dentist!

The point is that I have four months left of being thirty-two and I plan to make the most of it. I intend to see 2014 not as another year of feeling sorry for my single self, but to DO something about it. My mother has taken over my online dating profile (more on that later!) I have begun running and doing yoga and swimming and riding my bike. I read more than I watch television. I write more than I check facebook. I eat salads more than I eat candy (most days!) All in all, I'm set up to have a fairly happy and healthy year. The only thing missing is that man on my doorstep. So who wants to call Rob Reiner for me and put in a good word? Even after a long, complicated, drawn out, crazy battle of a relationship, "when you meet the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!"