This New Year's celebration was different for the four of us friends. For the past three years, our New year's celebration is a grand affair, something that we look forward to right after Christmas. For the past three years, Steve, our best friend, the scion of an empire (he hates it when I call him that) would throw the biggest New YEar's bash and invite all of his friends, relatives, contacts, clients and of course, us to usher in the new year in the biggest way possible.
But this year, there wasn't any bash, no big ball, no free flow of champagne, no sweet door gifts ($300 spa vouchers anybody?), no dance floor, no fine Italian food, no nothing.
Back in November 2012, Steve shared with us about his desire to do away with a New Year's Ball as he is famously associated with.
"I'm too old to throw a party," he said.
"You're 25," Melanie rolled her eyes.
"Fine, the real reason I don't want to have a party this year is because I..."
"Please do not say it is because you don't want to waste money. Your bank account is inexhaustible," Star butted in halfway.
"It's not that. I just...I just feel empty? I don't know. When I turned 21, I thought it was a great idea, almost mandatory. Son of tycoon throws a party, you know. But I just feel like this year onwards, and the years coming ahead, no more party. I just want to spend it with my closest friends, something intimate, meaningful," Steve shared.
I could hear hundreds of people from the gliteratti sighing at that very moment.
"Does that mean that the supposed three million dollar budget used for the ball could be used on us instead?" I joked.
"Of course if you want it, I will give it to you!" Steve smiled earnestly.
I looked at his face. He actually meant that.
"I'm just kidding," I replied softly. Damn it.
That was two months ago and yesterday, the four of us went to The Fullerton for a small get together; his ex boyfriend (who is now a good friend) and a few others of Steve's closest friends organized. Because there wasn't a ball this year, we three (and hundreds of members from the gliteratti) had no plans so were were cordially invited by Steve and boy did we have fun.
When we arrived, one of Steve's male friends opened the door and Star squealed. It was Dan The Man (read the blog post of the same name to refresh you memory), Star's new regional manager and imaginary fuck buddy. Apparently Dan is Steve's old university buddy back in London; Steve took Architecture, Dan, MBA.
I have to give it to Star. This Dan guy is really, really good looking even I can't stop staring at him for the first two minutes after our initial handshake. And yes, he smells of Bulgari Men, as famously described by Star.
"What if he's gay?" Melanie teased.
"Don't fuck with me like that. Not on the last day of 2012. I can't handle that shit. And just because he is friends with a gay man doesn't mean his is gay too you stupid tranny!" Star growled behind Dan's back.
"Possessive bitch," Melanie flicked her hair.
There were a couple of other people whom we didn't know but didn't take long to warm up to (by the fourth glass to be exact). There is a certain sense of joy indescribable when you spend time with your closest friend at such a momentous time of the year. There were plenty of food (great italian from one of Steve's restaurants) and his father had given him six bottles of champagne and Ben (Steve's ex) was such an excellent host, we couldn't ask for more.
We played Snap like children, huddled together (all ten of us) at the balcony to witness the fireworks when the clock struck twelve, drank some more and played some more games.
The highlight of the night was when we played Taboo and Melanie had to describe "Ghosts" and said, "People are afraid of this thing...What is it?"
"Lesbians?" Ben guessed loudly.
The whole room shook with laughter and Star spilled champagne on her top and that is when you know that things are really getting fun. Oh, and yes, Star made out with Dan at the end of the night on a couch in the living room of the hotel suite and Melanie threw a pillow at them and screamed, "Score!"
A ball of a time, without three million dollars.