I turned thirty last Thursday to no fanfare. I really dislike the fact that I’m thirty. It’s one of those all-important ages that symbolizes the true descent of adulthood, I think. I cringe at that idea and the age. When Lucas turned thirty two years ago, I took it harder than he did. Well, for a bit anyway.

Despite feeling a bit sullen about turning thirty, I’ll admit that I kinda wish someone had made a bit of a big deal and made the birthday special. Instead, all I got, courtesy of Lucas, was some supposedly good-natured ribbing about my old age, and that got irritating very quickly (but he still persisted and still does every so often), and a very typical, boring day. Okay, he did buy us dinner, so that was different. If there wasn’t that crazy snowstorm the day before, we might’ve made it to the museum in Toronto. That’s been postponed a few weeks. But still, I do wish Lucas had at least made the effort to make the day special. Over the years, we’ve gradually done away with gifts for commercial days, but the one thing I wanted was to at least celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. Somehow, the birthdays of the past few years haven’t involved gifts. I’m not exactly certain why, but our finances play into that, I suppose. Actually, last year, I got him a notebook and also made him one, with Raspberry’s scribblings on the cover. I do enjoy the fun and secrecy of putting together gifts for others. I feel lame and commercial about being upset over not getting any gifts, when clearly that’s not the point of birthdays. I’ve become someone who secretly likes her birthdays but generally loathes them because they’ve sucked balls. I honestly can’t recall a great or even good birthday in the past ten to twelve years or more, and I can’t even tell you why that’s the case. I miss my childhood birthdays, where at least I was more or less guaranteed a good day. Cake! Presents! Happiness! YAY! I’m not sure why this is bothering me so much today when we’re four days past the fact. I should be better than this, rise above it and all that shit. &(@$^&(*@$##! Okay, back to life.


4 responses

  1. You have the same birthday as my dad! I feel the same way — Like Oh big deal, let’s not make a to-do about it…. BUT what other day of the year could you even have the POSSIBILITY of someone just randomly making you a cake and showering you with gifts? It’s a quandary. I honestly don’t remember what we did on my 30th…. Which is why LJ exists! Now I will go back and look… All I know is that I was super pregnant.

    March 29, 2011 at 4:44 am

  2. I feel the same way about birthdays. I secretly love them but I try to not make a big deal out of them in advance because they are often disappointing.

    I’m sorry that he didn’t do anything special. Maybe he thinks that you don’t care and/or feel strongly against them. I wish that people didn’t assume that since you don’t want flowers and chocolate, you wouldn’t really appreciate small, thoughtful gifts like new music, etc. I don’t know if he’s like that, but certainly people I’ve dated have been.

    March 30, 2011 at 10:43 pm

  3. Oh wow, that’s uncanny that I’ve got the same birthday as your dad! Your comment made me smile, thanks. So what did you end up doing on your 30th?

    April 6, 2011 at 4:16 am

  4. Oh, I’m sorry to hear that your birthdays are disappointing too :(

    I wish Lucas/boys weren’t so daft when it comes to how people try to be modest when it comes to birthdays. I’m not the kind of person who’s going to make a big deal, but after almost 10 years, you’d think he would at least do a little something. Humbug. Well, he could still make it up to me… if he remembers. Ha.

    April 6, 2011 at 4:20 am

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