Wednesday, August 13, 2008

I've never been one to make a huge deal out of my birthday.

I don't demand candles, or a huge cake (unless Jeffery Donovan or Vin Diesel is jumping out of it, in which case I want my goddamn cake), or presents.

All I really care about is that the people I care about give me a call, an email, an IM, something.

My birthday was yesterday. Again, it was almost a non event. I saw The Dark Knight (incredible movie, see it, seriously), had a few drinks and went to bed. Nothing huge.

I got a shitload of emails, IMs, forum posts and text messages all wishing me a happy birthday, which is awesome. Well, awesome as long as they weren't from Mikey, who has resorted to starting every one of our conversations with the phrase "HA HA YOU'RE OLD!" and "God loves me best!"

Not one of those emails, IMs, forum posts and text messages came from my friends back home. Not. One. Understand, I've known some of those people for going on 12 years now. If I was to forget their birthday there would be absolute hell to pay. Not one of them called me. Not even my best friend (who is apologetic as hell). The rest? Haven't heard from them.

And I am pissed.

For 364 days of the year, I deal with their issues, neuroses, bullshit and drama which a lot of the time is the result of their own actions. I'm supportive even when I want to strangle them. I take calls at all hours of the night, I give good solid advice and I don't blow smoke up their asses.

To make matters worse? I made it easy for every one of them. A few days before my birthday I even reminded them. I mean for fucks sake.

One day a year, just one, I expect them to pick up the phone first. That's all. I don't want a parade, I don't want diamonds (ok thats a lie), I don't want parties and cake, all I ask is that they flip open the same fucking cellphone they call me on to unload all their stupid, bullshit, petty problems and let me know that they appreciate me, just for a fucking second. Just a "hey, thanks for listening to me ramble on about my engagement/best friend/boyfriend/girlfriend/job."

It may sound selfish, but if I'm not important enough to call once a fucking year, then I'm certainly not important enough to field phone calls about their daily lives, engagements, weddings, best friend, boyfriends, girlfriends, jobs, and so on. It all seems so clear now.

I wrote a few days ago about knowing who my real friends are, and I apparently do now. And when I stop answering their calls? They'll figure out who their real friends are. I'm through giving a shit about people who care less about me. Call it a birthday present to myself.

5 comments:

Bartski said...

Everybody who wished you a happy birthday secretly just hopes to get into your pants.

True Story®.

df said...

I'm so sorry I missed your birthday...and yes, I just want to get into your pants. :)

Dino said...

I've been in her pants... It's not as fun as you'd think.


Maybe next time I'll wait for her to get home first.

Happy Birthday you whiney bitch. :)

Anonymous said...

omg stfu already. boo hoo.

no one cares. get a life.

K-Mart said...

I hope you had a fantastic birthday.