Birthday Eve

Tomorrow is my birthday.

Since I can never remember how old I am I had to actually count out the years to remind myself. I’ll be 34, by the way, which is a relief since I first thought I was going to be 35. Gotta hang on to every year I can.

I’ve been a complete dork about my birthday this year. A few months back Bryan emailed me from work in a craze of all caps saying something about a concert he wanted to go to for a band I’ve never heard of. I said, Sure, Why not, since he is usually successful in connecting me with great music and movies.

Somewhere along the line, though, I developed a really pissy attitude about the whole thing – mostly because it just happened to fall on my birthday. I started to feel bitter about the fact I was spending my birthday listening to music I’d never heard before preceded by dinner with another couple I’d only met once. Small talk was not my choice for a good time.

What I REALLY wanted to do was gather my peeps around me, put on some lipstick, and find somewhere that serves pink drinks in sexy glasses.

So I quietly seethed about it in silence for several weeks until I finally had the nerve to bring it up with Bryan.

I tried to be delicate: “Would it hurt your feelings if I wasn’t really into the show in September?”

I instantly knew he was hurt – partly due to my lack of enthusiasm, and partly due to his own baggage from a past life. We talked it through, he gave me his reasons for wanting me to go, and I knew it was important to him that I go, so I decided to go.

In an ironic turn of events, late last week Bryan’s friend emailed him saying he wouldn’t be bringing his wife, so Bryan told me I was off the hook, I didn’t have to go either.

You’d think I would have instantly taken out an ad in the Seattle Times for all the complaining I had done: PARTY GIRL BUYS OUT THE PINK DOOR FOR BIRTHDAY BASH – ALL ARE INVITED.

But there was no fanfare, no screeching, no panic shopping for the perfect going-out attire. I said nothing, I planned nothing, and I simply continued feeling sorry for myself.


In retrospect, I think it came down to the simple issue of my selfishness. I think I just wanted to get my way, and as I continued seething about how I wasn’t getting my way the bitterness grew stronger. Never mind that I could have listened to the music ahead of time to learn the new band, and never mind that I could have planned a ladies night out on a different night. No, I had to be a bitch about Bryan wanting to see a show on a night he had no control over scheduling.

Oh well, all is not lost. Bryan and I are still speaking to each other, and I may get a drink or two in after all.

Happy Birthday to me.

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