I spent [m]y New Year’s Eve fucking a woman who wouldn’t kiss me when the ball dropped.

This story is quite long, and features a fair bit of backstory. If you’re not interested in the build-up, I get it! To jump right into the sexier stuff, feel free to skip to where you see the thin, grey line.

I had recently broken with my (now) ex-girlfriend of three years. We’d spent every holiday and event of my post-collegiate life together, and I was now staring down the barrel of a New Year’s Eve spent alone. I was ready to wallow in my melancholy until my good buddy Jamie invited me to his girlfriend (also named Jamie’s) house for a small party. I had been to female Jamie’s house once before for a Fourth of July party with my ex, and when I say that female Jamie’s house was the largest I had ever been to, I mean it wasn’t even a competition. It looked like it belonged to minor European royalty, it was that resplendent. That night, we were gathering in female Jamie’s pool house—just off the main house—which in and of itself was nicer than the house I lived in.