The Birthday Boy

The Twenty sixth of October. I dread this day every year, happens to be the day I was conceived to my parents. Birthdays are special days in ones life the day is supposed to be all about him. But have you given a thought as to what birthdays really are, a celebration to the fact that you are a year older and getting closer to the skull and bones. I mean celebrating New years makes more sense than celebrating a birthday. Birthdays function more like an intervention where you slice your life and figure out whats wrong with it.

Explain to me what I am supposed to like about the fact that I wake up in the morning my mother is right there, of course she is aware that today is my birthday, obviously she has not forgotten the day she had to undergo 6 hours of agonizing labour pains in a hospital. But there she is smiling with a twinkle in her eyes, she gives you a hug, says happy birthday, and all you can think of is that you have not brushed and you stink like the sixth cousin of Shrek.

You get to the breakfast table your sisters there, your lucky if your sister doesn’t like you but your positively in shit if she does, because she will give you the whole ‘ hey bro have nice b’day ‘ thing and you hate yourself for not having got her something for her birthday. Your father will be there, of course he is not the one who enjoys physical gestures, will smile at you silently wondering how old you need to be before he can make you work like a dog for him.

Your cell phone rings its your friend wishing you a happy one, this could be like your tenth friend calling, then again it could be the first and only one who remembers or even sadder none of your friends remember its your b’day.

You assure your friend that you will give him a treat, he will show some decency and decline, but if he is like anyone of my friends he will fucking demand it, like its his birthright or something.

Mommy will tell you about the present that she has bought for you , a new shirt to go with the denims you wear so much. Your appreciative but will not show all of it , lest she goes on a shopping spree and all you have are identical t-shirts. Your pa calls you over hands you some extra Moolah and tell you to spend well. Your sister gives you a kiss on the cheek and hand you a flashy new pen, this is a great pen gosh sisters have great taste.

Dash out the door fast enough so that you don’t have to endure anymore of the pain of having forgotten your sisters birthday. Better hope that it is a working day cause if its not you are probably going over to your friends place who is hopefully not too excited that you are a year older. Unfortunately he happens to be planning a major gig, he does not want to surprise you and tells you all about the party, including the guest list, all you can see on the list are names of people a) you hardly know b) you know and secretly hate c) really don’t want to know but your friends want them there. You wont say anything because you are not about to break your buddys heart who has gone through so much in preparing this bash for you. You stare at him blankly wondering why he is so thrilled about your birthday and contemplate would you do the same for him. Why do people have to go through so much pain to celebrate a wasteful life and the fact there are are many more to come.
Fast forward to the bash, the place is elegantly decorated …..yeah and I look like Matt Damon, the place is filled with multi colored balloons not filled to capacity, lights are either too bright which is a bad thing because it makes the place look like the set of some sit com, or worse it will be too dark which makes it look like a bar complete with the seriously drunk. Your entrance is nothing short of holy and your disciples are chanting your name, these people will do anything for Cake. Sure some girls are around but they are vaguely interested in you at best. Booze is flowing like it is new years eve, which leads you to wonder that maybe it is. Soon your confusion is shot to hell when another drunken buddy comes over to shout not sing but shout “for he is a jolly good fellow…” you give him credit for locating you in that dingy place, hey drunks have navigation only bad control.

The party is almost over you thank your buddies for the awesome time you had, hey you are not the one to hurt their feelings and besides you are not that drunk. Its almost midnight, the shows going to end, you have gone through the whole day being the center of attraction. People have had a good time because you were born on this day.

Bitching is a bad habit, but hey every body does it, you hate this day and since its “your” day you have the full right to be pissed off. Stop to wonder, maybe this day isn’t about you, its not about you at all, its about the people who love you, and care about you, and people who give a rats ass about you, maybe they need a day to celebrate the fact that you exist , the fact that you play a part in their lives. This day they appreciate your existence and acknowledge by drinking to you and your health, cherish this moment because come the next day you are just another guy.