Birthdays give me the heeby jeebies

Posted on October 8, 2013

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There’s just something about them. They bring me out in hives. I either have to be on a tropical island, far away from the reality of my life, or surrounded by wonderful friends. I can only do the latter when i’m in a good place though.

I usually prefer to be around strangers.

For someone reason, I prefer not be reminded of how my life is a failure (the failure that it is in my eyes), and because ALL my friends know me, and they know how I am and how I think, its like staring into a mirror if they’re all there.

Plus I hate the birthday politics.

I loathe how everyone is suddenly ‘too poor’ to do dinner, or ‘only going to come for one’ as if the mere idea of having to celebrate with me brings them out in a rash too.

Of course, I do have some marvelous friends who insist I celebrate, even when I really don’t want to. Nothing to do with their penchant for taking that midnight oil, and desecrating it. On a Tuesday.

So yes, my birthday is coming up. I’ve decided to celebrate this year. I’ve convinced somewhere to do me a deal and I wanted to cover everyone’s food and some drinks, so no one could feel like it was a burden. A financial one. I’m sure my post-dark era, bright-young-thing company is charming and warrants a baby sitter. One old friend, is coming up from Sussex. Sussex!

But to be fair, there’s something about birthdays, christmas and new years eve – that since I turned 30 – I tend to break out in a sweat about. Its weird.

Maybe I just thought I’d be sharing these occasions with someone special.

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Posted in: Journal