Friday, October 12, 2007
Adults Who Go Crazy About Their Birthdays Make Me Crazy
I suppose I should have reserved this rant for Tearfree's plea for rants earlier this week. But I was too busy defending Rico Suave.
But I have always had trouble understanding grown adults who get all uptight about their birthdays. I don't mean uptight as in "oh no, I'm aging." I mean uptight as in: "How dare you didn't remember my birthday?"
I have an adult friend whose 44th birthday I forgot this week. I realized a couple of days later, gave her a "happy belated birthday" shout-out in the office and was met with withering contempt. I know her well enough to know that she's pissed I forgot. Even though, when I thought back, I remembered I didn't hear from her on my birthday, and I did not care! Why? Because who does care once you're beyond 25 or so? I honestly don't. If I'm involved with someone romantically, and I pick up his underwear and tidy up after him and service him in other loving ways all year, then yes -- do me a favour, take me out to a nice place for dinner or give me something sweet and sentimental like a framed photo of my kids or the cover of a book that I love or some Roger and Gallet soaps. Flowers and a neck massage will do just fine as well.
This year was a great birthday -- I spent it topless on a beach in Barcelona drinking champagne with Fritzi, and I didn't hear from a single soul except a dear friend who managed to get a fruit basket delivered to our hotel room. And that was just fine by me.
Is it not childish and weird to be in your 40s and still expect your friends to go all out on your birthday? I just don't get it. Isn't that for 12-year-olds?
The other thing I find laughable is when people get all excited to discover someone's birthday is the same as someone else's birthday and that there is something meaningful in the discovery. I am not a mathematician, but with only 365 days in a year, isn't it quite likely that you'll meet people or know people who share birthdays? I personally know about seven or eight people born on March 10th -- my sister's birthday and Fritzi's sister's birthday -- and about five or six on January 30th, my brother's birthday.
I once had a boyfriend whose father's birthday was my mother's and whose mother's birthday was my father's. Yes, it was weird, and we did compare their personalities. It might have been really weird if the years had been the same too. But did we think that odd coincidence signified any kind of meaning to our union? Did we think we were "meant to be" because of it? Uhhhh .... no. Because we weren't teenaged girls poring over our horoscopes and playing Ouija board either.
That is my belated rant.