My childhood birthdays were pretty typical: classmates going to my parent’s house, material gifts, party favors, etc. I stopped celebrating my birthday like that way sooner than most kids do. By my tenth birthday my childhood resentment really started building noticeably. My adolescence birthdays were only a single material gift from my parents, which I had to pay half the price of.
My 20s were birthdays when I just wanted to isolate. My whole life I feel like I haven’t been listened to when it was a reasonable expectation, so I just wanted to act mute on my birthday throughout my 20s. Some of my 20s were spent in group homes for the developmentally disabled which made this very difficult. My early 30s have gone better. My 30th birthday I went to Applebee’s in Fountain Valley, California and enjoyed a steak dinner. My 31st birthday I was at Wellness Central, celebrating with a woman who, the following year, became the first ex girlfriend I had in twelve years (hereinafter X#1).
My 32nd birthday was the first one when I was in romantic love ON my actual birthday. It was so wonderful to engage in so many public displays of affection and hold hands with a beautiful woman on my birthday. But I regret trusting her to be my birthday photographer because I never got copies of the pics.
My 33rd birthday was most recent, and I was alone again. I went to Applebee’s in Santa Ana, California and had a steak dinner. My fries were not spiced with garlic, paprika, and possibly other spices as happened on my 30th birthday. I just think Applebee’s has changed their cooking. The location probably had nothing to do with it.
Ever since having to dump X#2 for not being mutually exclusive with me, not taking care of her mental health, and begging me to have my vasectomy reversed when I have already made up my mind that I NEVER want children, public displays of affection on the streets & buses have been more bothersome to me than ever before, especially on my birthday. All I can do is roll or close my eyes when another happy couple just has to kiss every five seconds and I’m at least 20 minutes from home.
So, on my 33rd birthday I listened to Gilbert O’Sullivan’s song “Alone Again (Naturally)” because I felt that my aloneness was natural and to be expected. The song was released eleven years and five months before my time. Thankfully I was not suicidal as the song’s first verse suggests. The suicide method in the song’s first verse is one that often fails and results in paraplegia or quadriplegia rather than death.