As someone who is old enough to get mail from the AARP, I’ve been at this New Year’s Eve thing awhile.

Let’s do this in 10-year increments, then progress to a yearly account:

1975-76: Beer at some Atlanta blues club. Striking up a conversation with some woman who – in my booze and whatever endorphin haze, seemed to be interested in me. Calling her the next day, got a “what can I do for you.” Oh, it’s happened again since then.

1985-86. Spent it on a nice meal and a quiet countdown with a woman I really loved. Not even three years later, her ashes were set free on a Kentucky hillside. I did not need to see the movie “Love Story,” for I lived it.

1995-96. Not quite in Portland yet (that was to take place in 9/1997). Red wine on the couch with a fun lady whose very large and neurotically needing-of-affection dog kept jumping in between us. Get emails from her every few months or so – she’s theologically committed in a certain way, and she says I don’t know what I am missing.

1997-98: Hearing the marathoners at midnight loud and clear from my overpriced apartment on the cliffs above NW 23. An apartment I would live in up until the end of February 2005.

1998-1999: Took the now-discontinued Pacific Starlight Dinner train from North Vancouver, B.C. to Porteau Cove. Toasts at midnight as we debarked at a very cold station at Porteau. Some band was at the station, playing traditional music and no, they didn’t play Prince’s “1999.” When we got back to our hotel (Pan Pacfic) made sure I placed the trash bucket right at her side of the bed. Slept ’til 2. Brunch

1999-2000. Dateless at the turn of the millennium. Had been dumped a month prior by the 1998-99 companion whose adventures I just described. I was in my office working, and heard the countdown in the background.

2000-2001. Very similar to above. But I did have my headphones on, sipped burgundy and listened to Robert Cray, Hank Sr., my usual eclectic mix.

2001-2002. Had about two too many with a woman whom I subsequently found out was an alcoholic. Since then, she’s had a rough time of it. A few years back, Me Mum says to me “Russell, you are not a social worker.” My life would have been easier if I remembered that advice.

2002-2003. Portland Spirit dinner cruise followed by a horse-y ride from Salmon Street Fountain up to Tiffany Center to hear Pink Martini. I say “hear,” cuz was so crowded, could barely get a view of them.

2003-2004. Not alone, but slept thru the countdown in Eugene. Bronchitis.

2004-2005. Had a glass of wine as the X-chromosomal unit and I brought back a few DVDs from Blockbuster.

2005-06. Might have a glass of wine as the X-chromosomal unit and I hunt for a good movie available on digital cable.

And you?