I Have Birthday Bad Luck
I have come to dread my birthday. For the most part, my birthday has been someone's afterthought; "Oh, yeah, right, it's her birthday... let's do something slapped-together and half-*** (if anything at all). One year, my mom decided to invite my class last-minute instead of my actual friends, and since I was mainly a weirdo in school, everyone just got me puzzles (not lying, I got like 18 puzzles, some of them duplicates) and sat around looking uncomfortable celebrating a birthday for a classmate most of them hadn't really noticed.
As I've gotten older, it's just been forgotten. My 21st birthday, my mom took me out with some of her drinking buddies, got me drunk and then left me on her office sofa while she went out to finish the party. Another birthday, I sat at home and watched a Xena marathon and ate squeezie cheese and crackers. Another, I slept all the way through it; my mom called two days later to tell me happy birthday, and the only reason why she remembered was because I mentioned everyone forgetting to my aunt. Once, my mother insisted I come over to her house (after my sister told her it was my birthday), and she made me a cake, which my developmentally disabled brother had apparently taken a hunk out of with his bare hands before I got there. I sat there staring at this mangled cake and wishing I could just disappear.
Now, I'm married. And still, not a single person in my life ever extends themself to ask me what I'd like to do on my birthday. It's still a freakin' afterthought. I can't remember the last time anyone made or brought me a cake.. or kicked up a fuss. A few months ago, I was out with a friend at a bar in Portland called Kells, and there was this huge group there, and this couple walked in and the whole long table of people got up and screamed SURPRISE! at the newcomer, and someone had ordered a cake, and there was all this revelry and celebration, and I just started crying. I had to go into the restroom, and weep because I was so effing jealous. I want to know what it's like to matter so much to people that they'll do something special like that for me.
This year, my husband and I got into one of the worst fights we've ever had on the day before my birthday. He stormed out and stayed at a hotel, and didn't come home until noon. I spent the morning of my birthday crying. Then he got back, and we were so exhausted from not sleeping so we passed out for a 2 hours. He woke up, and felt bad I guess, and went to the store and bought me season two of Lost and took me out to an awkward, last-minute dinner where we sat there red-eyed and looked at one another in a sort of confusion.
He'd made no prior plans at all, obviously. It sounds selfish and stupid and whiny but it really hurt my feelings... it always does. I'm pushing 40 and I still get upset that nobody gives a crap about my birthday.