The thing is… I pretty much have had like one super awesome birthday in 31 years of birthdays. I don’t count the ones before like the sixth one because those were all just family and 3 year olds don’t have that “you ruined my birthday” thought like, anywhere in their capacity for thought. But from that point on, I would invite like all the girls in my grade and no one would come because my birthday is in November which means the weather sucks and we lived in BFE so no one wanted to drive their kids out there in the rain and muck and mud and then drive back three hours later to pick them up so the only person whoever came was my neighbor.*
When I got old enough to want to do stuff on my birthday (movies, amusement parks, um….) we lived in BFE and none of the parents wanted to drive their kids into the city to the movie theater… blah blah blah whine whine whine.
My boyfriend missed my sixteenth birthday because he was cheating on me.
My fiance was a day older than me so we did what he wanted to do for our eighteenth birthdays (plus I was kind of on the downhill slope toward breaking up with him by then).
Nineteen and twenty suck for everyone.
My crush who allegedly also had a crush on me** brought his girlfriend (also one of my sorority sisters but not one of my favorite sorority sisters) to my 21st which didn’t start until 12:01 am on the 3rd because our sorority dedication week didn’t end until midnight on the 2nd. He did buy me a blowjob and drive me in his not as sweet as his other Mustang Mustang (he had a 69 and an 80…I think….) to the “after party” while she drove in her car which kind of makes up for the bringing the girlfriend thing…. But not totally.
My 22nd birthday was A-MAZE-ING except for the part where the hot guy I’d been flirting with all night went home and left my drunk ass to sleep it off because he didn’t want me to think he was taking advantage of me (and I didn’t want him to think I asked because I was drunk). ‘Sall good though because years later he turned out to be a psycho. But we started partying at … 6ish, with dinner at Ruby Tuesday (when it was still a sports bar and therefore awesome), got home and there were already people on our porch waiting to come in. Last person (aforementioned hot guy) left at 3.
Had one friend show up and apparently stay for a couple of hours and there exists a photo of me sitting beside him on the couch but I do not remember him being there. And best of all… a good 30-40 people in and out over the course of the night and noooooo dramaaaaa! Delivered some Pepto-Tylenol-Pepsi-Water care packages the next morning but nothing at the actual party. Did misplace a (passed out) roommate a couple of times though.
And from 24 on, it’s been me and my mom. We go out to dinner, maybe a movie and … that’s the birthday.
But at least growing up I had Halloween to fall back on. So my birthday sucks, at least Halloween was awesome. Now I don’t really even have that because all my friends are so far away and I’m too poor to go to where they are to get in on the fun.
So for one more year at least, I shall repeat the mantra, “Maybe next year.”
* Kind of ironic that I was about 11-12ish when I realized how sucky it was to have a birthday in the ugliest month of the year and this song came out when I was 11-12ish. “In the cold November rain” became a very poignant lyric for me.
**And by “allegedly” I mean pretty much everyone knew it but no one talked about it.