Two weeks ago, we once had a fight about money. He wanted me to get a washine machine. I’m all, “I’ll think about that later. My birthday is coming up.”
He said, “Think about your priorities. Your laundry is piling up and the only thing that is constant in this house is that and garbage.”
Because I can’t believe what I’m hearing, I snapped. “Oh, fine. I’ll take care of my laundry. THAT has go first than my birthday.”
“Everyday IS your birthday.” He shot back. “Thank God He gives you another day to live.”
“Right! Forget about my birthday then! Don’t mind that day because EVERYDAY IS MY BIRTHDAY.”
I do not know whether I was just being a brat about it or he was just inconsiderate but birthdays to me will forever be special. Birthdays make you relive the dormant friendships you have, bring out the party hats and numbered candles and that birthday jingle that rings in your ears. They give excuses to you getting your way at that cash register queue, receiving all those hugs and kisses and even having your way with
Yet, everyone is different, and everyone has a sundry way of celebrating his birthday. His take was that it was just any other day for him. The last birthday he spent was by himself and he had work that time.
If there were any other superficial word for stoic, that would be the thing to describe my face after he said that. I’m not like him. I see friends, I need to at least blow – hey, a cake! And I need to at least let everybody know IT IS MY DAY. But if he says a birthday isn’t that important… then he’s right. One day just doesn’t cut it. A MONTH is more like it. So I therefore declare the month of OCTOBER as my birthmonth giving me all the right to celebrate it whenever and wherever I feel like it… until October, anyway.
So my birthday came and went. A blur.
I got the usual text messages (thank God, they weren’t from Twitter), the usual calls, the usual hoots – where is that oversized cake where a hot guy in red briefs will pop out?
But he heard me say that I love having cakes during birthdays and having a candle to blow on to. He got me one. It was a start.