Not sure why I'm only now thinking about Christmas parties, but why not?

Every year, someone asks me if I'll be going to the office holiday party. This year, like all years past, my answer was a resounding "No!" Unfortunately, I've found no tactful way to decline without sounding like a prude, a recluse, a killjoy, an old man, or all of the above. That I no longer drink certainly factors into my annual decision to forgo the holiday festivities; however, I think it's less a decision than a subconscious effort to remove myself from a type of celebration that has, in the past, caused me undue grief. To recap a brief of history of my celebratory failures:

2001

I was working at the time for a courier company named Eastern Connection. Sine I was working the graveyard shift, the company's holiday party was held at the über-festive hour of 3am, in the presence of several bitter and discontent co-workers and a cluster of archaic computers. Beverages consisted of a bottle of Southern Comfort, a 6-pack of Löwenbraü, and the precarious vestige of a Jack Daniels magnum. Three Löwenbraüs and a few shots of SoCo and I was professing my undying love to a data entry clerk named Josephine. Not the best of times.

2002

Thanks to the kindness of a co-worker/Jehovah's Witness adherent (those folks don't do holiday parties), I was able to finesse a 2-hour open bar into a 3-hour display of irresponsible intoxication and moral incompetence. I'm told there was a girl and that I was kissing this girl. This girl and I ended up getting separated by some lawyers who undoubtedly felt that our drunken display of lust was escalating to unseen heights. Mostly, I remember this as the party where I ended up getting pummeled by a group of guys right after the party ended. In spite of my bruised and battered body, I managed to make it back to the office to give my Ecuadorian co-worker, Luis, a plate of cookies. Upon re-entering the office, my blood-caked lips were mistaken by Luis for a bright shade of red lipstick. Well, at least I made good on promise to bring back cookies. My drinking that night resulted in a blackout so bad, I couldn't even recall the name or face of the unfortunate party with whom I locked lips. Weeks after the party, I narrowed down the field to 2 administrative assistants. I eliminated all attorneys from contention, because what white collar professional in her right mind would lower her standards to make out with a fax machine operator? Never did locate the object of my drunken desire. Probably better that way.

2003

Same company, skipped the party, much to the chagrin of pretty much everyone in the firm. You see, there's an expectation that the person who made the biggest ass of himself at the previous year's party will embrace his incumbency with renewed fervor. I was all too happy to disappoint my adoring public.

Well, between 2004 and 2007, I was temping on and off and was not invited to any of the office parties. My current company (I've been with them for a little over 5 years) occasionally has champagne toasts to celebrate new business wins, but I never attend. About 3 years ago, I stopped into my company's Christmas party. Between the sea of inebriates elbowing their way to the bar and the obnoxious Christmas music bellowing from the speakers, I quickly decided it was a wrap for me.

Now it's 2012, and I still have yet to devote more than 15 minutes to any holiday function put on by my company. A couple of years ago, there was even an Oktoberfest celebration, complete with German beer and bratwurst. I don't drink and I'm not a fan of bratwurst. I decided to sit that one out, too.

The moral of this tale is that you if you spend more than 30 minutes at a holiday party, especially one serving alcohol, you will get fucked up. There's no shame in allowing your peers to gleefully march toward certain hangovers while you sit it out on the sidelines. Anyone who has a problem with you not going and feeds you that "You're not a team player" line of shit is probably an alcoholic--or just an asshole who's uncomfortable in his or her own skin.