New Year's Eve: the best or worst night of the year?

There's one night of the year which is guaranteed to send me into the deepest, darkest depression. It's not my birthday, which arrives annually without my permission; nor the day I pay my taxes. It's not even the day my car inevitably fails its MOT. No, the one night of the year which never fails to let me down is New Year's Eve.

The kick in the teeth is that it's made even worse by everyone insisting that I should be having an amazing time, implying that I'm at fault, rather than the 'Eve' itself. And don't get me wrong, I've had many memorable New Year's Eves – but memorable for all the wrong reasons.

At the turn of the millennium, my mother insisted we celebrate as a family. That was the first year I understood how seriously people take NYE, and the first year I thought – what the hell for? Then there was the NYE I got so bored with the drunken, groping men crammed into an overpriced bar that I went home and watched the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Can you get more bored than that?

In 2009 I managed to lock myself out of a house party, minus shoes in minus temperatures, while comforting a sobbing friend who'd fallen out with someone inside. In defiance, my girlfriends and I decided to have a NYE dinner party – not too expensive, just good food and good company. And it was a nice night - but a nice night like any other.

There's always the promise that this NYE will be the best ever. Then comes the lack of taxis, the jostling people, the four-deep queue for the bar, the bank-breaking cost of a small glass of wine, the drunken fumbles, the regret, the desperation to find someone to kiss as the clock strikes midnight, and the sweaty hand-holding and flying spittle during Auld Lang Syne. The next day the misery is compounded by a hangover.

Until 2010, I believed that the only thing you could promise about NYE was that it never lives up to expectations. So that December, I made a very important – and early - new year's resolution. I vowed that I would never again have a mundane and unhappy New Year's Eve. And so far, I haven't – even if I've had to travel to the other side of the world to make sure.

On 31 December 2010, I watched the fireworks bursting over Sydney Opera House with my boyfriend, a blanket, a bottle of fizz and thousands of other NYE revellers. And I finally got it. Yes, it was crowded, and it was certainly bank-breaking, but I got a sense of the NYE magic that had eluded me thus far.

This year I'll be in New York watching the ball drop over Times Square. It's probably someone's idea of new year hell, and I'm not suggesting a NYE can only be good if it's spent abroad. But I've learnt that, to make my NYE memorable, making my own rules is key.

I've got plenty of plans up my sleeve for future New Year's Eves (God, what's happened to me?) – both at home and abroad. I've discovered there's no shame in avoiding the hustle and bustle, and no shame in embracing it either. Now, my view is that the one golden rule of NYE is that it should set you up positively for the year that follows.

Please share the pain of your New Year's Eve horror stories - or any positive tales which will convert me further. NYE is fast approaching and, despite my eureka moment, I could still do with some moral support ...