25

Yesterday was my 25th birthday.

My birthdays have never been the stuff of dreams, if we’re being totally honest here.  Something always seems to go wrong.  Growing up, my father forgot my 18th birthday.  Once, I had a mandatory cheerleading practice to attend, as my birthday fell on the night before a major competition, and my parents asked me to skip it.  As captain, I couldn’t.  When I returned home late that night, there was a cake on the counter with a note that said “happy birthday.”  My parents had gone to bed, angry at me.  Children tend to remember things like that.

On my 16th birthday, just days after B and I started dating, he ignored me.  My feelings were hurt, and a week later, I learned it was because he was nervous and felt bad about not getting me a birthday present.  On my 22nd birthday, he couldn’t be there because our long-distance relationship made birthdays in the middle of the week inconvenient.  Last year, on my 24th birthday, everything was going amazing until someone started an argument at my party and my friend stormed out, leaving us not speaking to each other for three months.

Situations such as these can easily cause one to dread such an event.  Turning 25 was also not exactly something to look forward to. 

Yesterday started off badly.  First, B woke me up to say goodbye before he left for work.  I had off, it being President’s Day and all.  He hurriedly kissed me on the forehead, but did not utter “Happy Birthday.”  I stared at him, quite visibly confused. 

“What’s wrong?  Bad dream, baby?” he asked.

I just shook my head and went back to sleep.  Is it possible my boyfriend forgot my birthday?!

I slept until 8:30 and got up to make some breakfast for myself.  Our dog had gone through the trash in the middle of the night, dragging it into the dining room, hallway, and living room.  Muttering obscenities below my breath, I thought to myself It’s already starting.  The shithole that is my birthday.  Go figure.  I decided to make the most of my day off and get some cleaning and laundry done.  When I attempted to start a load of laundry, I noticed that B had left his laundry from the night before in both the washer AND dryer.  Now, this would normally not be a huge deal, and under normal circumstances, I would just be kind and finish it for him.  But the night before this, the following conversation took place:

“Honey, when you do your laundry today, please make sure to start it early so that I can have the washer and dryer free tomorrow to wash my clothes and all the linens.  It’s going to take me a while,” I asked of him.

“Sure, no problem, babe.”

Only, he waited until the last minute to start his laundry on Sunday and he had run out of time.  Halfway-damp clothes were wrinkling in the dryer while completely wet clothes were growing mildew in the washer.  Frustrated, I threw my hands in the air and cursed his laziness.  Empowered by anger (at turning 25?  at my boyfriend forgetting my birthday? whatever.) I pulled his clothes out of the washer and left them in a damp heap on the floor.  Then I pulled his clothes out of the dryer and place them in a semi-damp heap on the floor next to the wet clothes.  Then I proceeded to start my laundry.  I thought to myself I’ll teach you to take me for granted, motherfucker.

At around 10 a.m., happily ensconced between two massive pillows, a pile of blankets, and my dog, my cell phone rang.  My first official Happy Birthday phone call!  It was bff.  We talked for about 25 minutes, then I proceeded to catch up on some sweet dvr’d television, enjoying my breakfast.  As the day proceeded, and I made not one, but two calls to B, I determined that he had, in fact, forgotten about my birthday.  And so had everyone else it seemed.  Aside from my family and two friends, I had not received any “happy birthday” phone calls or text messages.

Growing despondent, I felt like a child, pouting and sad.  So I decided to really amp up the “sad pathetic child” factor and put on some depressing music.  In the next couple of hours, I managed to wash all the dishes, do most of my laundry, clean up the house, and organize my closet.  I checked my cell phone probably hundreds of times, but it was quiet.  By the time B got home from work (with an ice cream cake – wait, he must have remembered sometime during the day), I was sitting in my comfy chair with a book, reading. 

“What’s wrong, doll?  You look so down,” he said.

“It’s… umm…  It’s my birthday,” I mustered.

“I know it is.  I brought you an ice cream cake!”

He eventually managed to make me laugh by reenacting one of our favorite scenes from the stand-up comedy we’d watched the night before.  But I couldn’t shake the feeling of being totally forgotten and looked over.

There were some close friends I expected to hear from that did not contact me.  Did they forget?  Two in particular left me messages on my MySpace account.  I’m sorry, but when did Facebook and MySpace become the appropriate venue for apologizing, congratulating, and wishing someone a happy birthday?  What ever happened to a phone call, or hell, even a text message?

I’m one year older, but perhaps not any wiser than I was this time last year.  I feel like a spoiled brat who is pouting that no one came to her slumber party.  I know B felt awful because for the rest of the night he tried to make me laugh and forget about it.  I even saw him checking my phone, then his phone immediately after.  I think he was even curious as to what happened to all of our friends.  I decided not to say anything to anyone about it, but really, I just needed to get it off my chest.

It sucks to be forgotten about.

But to change the tone of this entry, a list:

In 25 years, I have:

*owned three cars and wrecked two (but not by my own fault)

*lived in two states

*attended 3 elementary schools, one middle school, one high school, and one university

*kissed 9 boys

*slept with 1 boy

*been in the in-crowd, booted out of it, then said fuck it all together

*lived in 7 cities

*been to Ocean City, MD more times than I can count

*traveled to California, North Carolina, Florida, and New Jersey

*never traveled outside of the country

*graduated with honors from two schools

*broken 3 cell phones by throwing them

*owned approximately 12 cell phones, including the very old Motorola that weighed about 5 pounds

*been in love once

*fallen out of love once

*had my heart stolen once, by someone I least expected

*lived in 4 apartments, and bought my own house

*owned 8 dogs and 6 cats

*discovered I will never be patient, and that I will always trust people until they give me a reason not to

*learned a lot about who I want to be, but not enough about who I truly am

I’m 25.  Holy shit.