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I’m a firm believer that what you do on New Year’s Eve is what
you’ll wind up doing the rest of the year. That’s why I’m so glad that
Craig and I rang in 1993 the way we did. It bodes well.

Craig and I had been working together up until Christmas as
Santa and Mrs. Claus at the local mall. On our last day, the 24th, I
was a more than willing partner to my own seduction. We’d been talking
every day between Christmas and New Year’s, complaining about our
families and talking about our presents. I have a button that says
“Intelligence is the ultimate aphrodisiac”, and the more I talked to
Craig the more I wanted to see him again.

He had an invitation to a party that one of his friends was
giving. He told me he hadn’t been planning on going, because the only
thing worse than spending New Year’s at home alone was spending New
Year’s alone in a room full of people who were definitely NOT alone.
And, according to the flatterer’s own admission, he’d been expecting
to sit home moping that he’d never see me again, since our seasonal
work was done.