Diary of a disillusioned woman - Jan. 1

Happy f***ing New Year. A toast to the worst beginning in history. I can't believe that I am here all by myself. Yet again, why am I even surprised? Anthony is capable of anything.
I'm sitting in K1, looking around me, watching couples kiss and hug and wish one another love in the coming year. I am all alone. In K1. I have been trying to call Anthony for the last two and a half hours but nothing. He is drunk and passed out somewhere in Westlands with his "friends". Some tramp actually had the guts to pick up the phone and tell me to stop calling him "coz I will wake him up." Wake him up? He has passed out in a club! What amount of noise could his ringing phone make so as to rouse him, compared to that din in the club?
Earlier today, Tony called me and asked me to meet him in K1 for dinner and then we would later go out. It was his way of apologizing for the shouting match we had several days earlier. My initial reaction was to refuse, but after much pleading and cajoling, he managed to convince me to meet him. I insist I agreed, albeit reluctantly.
Dinner was to be at 9 p.m. I arrived at K1 at 9.30, knowing very well that Tony did not have a punctual bone in his body. True to form, he had not arrived. I decided to find a table and order a drink as I waited for him. A live band was playing jazz on one side. On the other, a chef was vigorously tossing and turning some pieces of chicken in an attempt to keep up with the orders coming his way.
At 10, I called him and impatiently told him that I had been waiting and I was already fed up. He apologized and promised to be here in the next twenty minutes. "And not a minute more," were my snarled words as I hang up.
Eleven o'clock. The optimist in me was slowly losing hope. I ordered a meal and told the waitress to keep the martinis coming. Seeing as I was so mad at Tony, I may as well be plastered by the time he got here.
Midnight, January 1st: Happy f***ing New Year. I lifted my glass high in the air and said, "I love life and loathe men! A toast to all the single ladies," as I took a swig of my martini and promptly threw up on the pool table.
Nat and Vierra, two high school friends of mine, just happened to walk in and witness me making an absolute fool out of myself. Vierra took me to the ladies and left Nat negotiating with the club bouncers who wanted to throw me out. In the ladies, I broke down and told Vierra that I wanted to go home.I had had enough.

I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for another chance. In all honesty, it can't even be called a second, fifth or even tenth chance, because they have been so many. Nonetheless, I just want to say thank you.
That time that I fell, you picked me up. The point at which I was so weary, you carried me. Nights that I cried myself to sleep, you held me so close and whispered that it would be ok. Even when I messed up, turned away and against you, you still loved me.
Now, I'm back on my feet and I have no one but you to thank. I'm so grateful for the stability you brought back into my life. Thank you.