My roommate took me out to dinner tonight for my birthday. She even had the waiter bring a candle on my caramelized apple tart. As I was leaving work tonight, my friend Steve asked if I had any plans. "My roommate's taking me out to dinner for my birthday," I said. He was shocked that I didn't mention it earlier. He said as much. "I don't like making a big deal out of my birthday," I said. "But I would have gotten you a card or.. something," he said clearly dismayed at this oversight. He looked so sad that I didn't have time to continue the charade. "My birthday was last year. It's a seriously overdue gift," I confessed. But I did enjoy being that girl for at least five minutes. No, not the one who lies, the one who is indifferent about turning another year older or at the very least unaffected by the hoopla that often surrounds the annual marker.But I'm not. My birthday celebration typically spans more than one day. It's usually more than one dinner, a brunch and lots of cards from friends around the country too frightened to forget the day God graced the earth with my presence. How's that for self love? Truthfully, it's an unabashed quest for the attention I feel deprived of the rest of the year. But you already knew that.
And so does everyone else who knows me. In fact, when we were throwing my friend a surprise birthday party a week after my actual birthday, we told him it was a continuation of MY celebration and he never doubted the ruse for a second even though he came to the first party. In my defense, I make a big deal out of other people's birthdays, too. It's not like I breaak out into song when my doorman tells me it's his birthday but if I like you, you'll be the victim of a random act of kindness. I'm also big on sending flowers to my close friends. Now I sound like I'm making a case for how nice I am. But you already knew that.
