I don’t usually write (actually I could stop right there) about myself, but I’m feeling introspective lately. My birthday is rapidly approaching and while that’s not a bad thing, the fact is after I turned 21, I stopped caring. It occurred to me that after you turn 21, the only “milestone birthdays” are 30, 40, 50, etc. which really only serve to remind you that you are indeed officially old. That depresses me. Also, I don’t really like calling attention to myself and that’s basically what birthdays do. It’s supposed to be a day where you walk around and say “look at me!” and everyone does. But, like I said, I’m not really comfortable with that. So I’m not a big birthday guy.
Now, a quick confession. I have been single for (gulp!) six years. Yes, there have been a few dates, but really nothing solid or meaningful. I try very hard not to let this get to me, but this seems to be the one aspect of my life that people want to use to define me. Now there are a myriad of other things one could pick. As I’ve stated on here, I’m a radio dork. I’m not yet 30 and am losing my hair. I have a bit of a gut (not fat per say, but a gut none the less…I’m working on getting rid of it). I like to think I’m rather funny. Any of these would be understandable traits to use when characterizing me, but without fail people always go to the single thing first. And they like to point out to me that I’m single, as if I would forget. Anyways, when my last meaningful relationship ended six years ago, it did not end well. She hurt me as deeply as any person ever has, and I readily admit it took quite a while to get over. But I am over it now. Seriously it’s been six years, if I wasn’t that would be pretty sad don’t you think?
So once a friend who was trying to be nice (I think) while chatting about my never-ending singleness asked if I ever miss my ex. I responded with “no, never.” And I don’t.
Except I do.
Lately, as my birthday has drawn closer, I’ve found myself missing her quite a bit. I think I finally know why. For being a rather selfish person, she went out of her way to make me feel special on my birthday. She was notorious for buying me many gifts, most being somewhat expensive. She would use the opportunity to remake my wardrobe of course, but she also would buy things that I would enjoy and were meaningful to me. She did this with very little money, so in truth, while the gifts were nice, the sentiment actually held more meaning to me. But it was more than material. She would cook (or attempt to anyways) for me, and always made sure that we had absolutely mind blowing sex (sorry to be graphic, but you have to admit that really, that’s what we all want on our birthday). Yes, I miss all those things, but I think what I miss more than all of that is just having someone to share the day with. Someone who went way out of her way to make me feel special that day. It was nice.
So now I inch closer to 30 and find myself with questions. Will I meet the fabled “special someone”? Will I ever make the kind of money that would allow me to not have to worry about money anymore? Will I have children someday? Will I ever own the house with the white picket fence and the dogs? Will the Bulls win another NBA title in my lifetime? (I don’t feel particularly good about that one)
I don’t know. But the promise I have made and the gift I’m giving myself this year is that I’m going to stop worrying about it. I’m going to wake up in a few days and I’ll be that much closer to the dreaded 30, but instead of focusing on my impending ticket to the retirement home (yeah, like I’ll be able to retire), I will pause for a moment to remember her and how she made me feel for several years on my birthday. I’ll then resume not thinking about her because she ended up being not very nice.
Where I go from there…well that’s the real fun isn’t it?
