A vigorous, funky groove pulsates through me. Between the music, half a glass of champagne a bit earlier,* and the fact that an adorable man had planted his lips on mine at midnight, I buzz ecstatically into 2014.
Donna shifts further from me and closer to the stage again. My attention strays to a tall, slender man bouncing by my side. He's cute, in a young Woody Harrelson kind of way. With a beer bottle in one hand, he offers the other for an introduction.
Am I dreaming? I don't think so because my feet hurt like hell. Wow. Kisses from not one but two men! That only happens to other women like Carrie Bradshaw.
**Not his real name. Woody is a euphemism.