I had expected to spend my New Year's Eve enjoying the company of friends and family safely in my home. I love hosting parties and cooking for my loved ones. So as I typically do, I put together a beautiful and extravagant spread of food and drink to share. But when I invite people into my home, I expect them to treat it and me with respect. Especially, when they are supposed to be family. But I was not going to allow anyone to destroy my home or threaten my family. I was not going to allow even someone I am supposed to call family to disrespect me.
I am sure it would have been comical to see me in a man's face twenty years older than I, on my tip toes, chest puffed out and finger pointing but I had complete control of my actions and emotions despite my state of inebriation until the moment he busted a bottle of lime green skittles vodka all over me, all over him and all over my dinning room floor. I lost it. In that moment, it was like a switch flipped and I went from trying to reason with him to screaming for him to get the fuck out of my house.
Yes, I called the police on my own party. I called the police not because I feared for my safety but because I was about to loose control and feared for his.
Lucky for him I did not miss the ball drop. He did however, scare several of my friends which I am not okay with.
Great start to a new year huh? The weekend's events further confirm my desire to move home . . . more and more I miss my family back in Canton every day.