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| Properly sums up the weekend (rose credit: Jade Wesp) |
I feel like I might have touched on here before how much I absolutely love birthdays. I'm not even referring to just my birthday, guys. I strongly believe you are never too old for a birthday party and that everybody should be able to spend their birthday as they please. Birthdays are the ONE DAY of the year you have every right to make all about you and the people you love remind you of just that. When people have the same birthday, that's exciting. I get excited when someone tells me they were born in February, or even on the 22nd of any month. I like when numbers line up and I like general astrology (but I don't buy that shit on a daily basis; no one should be cranky because their moons aren't aligned... stop) so it's just exciting when Kurt Cobain and I are both Pisces. My bestfriendsoulmate's niece and one of the other loves of her life was born on February 22, and her daughter's birthday is on August 22. The number 2 is important to me, folks.
So birthdays, especially mine, are kind of a big deal personally. This is why every year, on my birthday, I go through a full range of emotions. I get up and I'm happy (or hungover but still it's my birthday so happy). This year two of my best friends spent the night from the party I had on Friday, so I got to snuggle with them for a bit in the morning. My parents came for lunch and finally met George the cat. I laid in bed, ate some cupcakes, and watched The Lucky One because my wonderful, wonderful friends Abby and Phillip supplied cupcakes and Zac Efron, respectively. Then I went and hung out with some unexpected birthday champions (who says exes can't be friends? But for real, I don't even like that people know we dated because he's one of my favorite Chicago friends even though he doesn't ever read my blog, rude) who bought me beer and suffered through an episode of New Girl where I decided we drink every time Jessica Day is awkward. That's a lot of drinks. I also started drinking every time it was obvious Nick Miller was already in love and yelled "FROM THE VERY BEGINNING" a lot because that's what drunk hopeless romantics do. Then we went to someone else's birthday party (happy birthday Taylor!), people were drunk and singing and happy. I realize now as I am concluding this paragraph that I was going to walk through a range of emotions I have on my birthday but actually I just wanted to share with all 12 of my readers what I did on my birthday because it made me happy.
For the shit-storm that Chicago has been recently, the fact that I was able to do almost exactly what I wanted my whole birthday and be around some really positive people was actually amazing, even though I did freeze my ass off because I decided leggings were appropriate winter-wear. The city of Chicago and I are having some reconciling moments right now and I can afford groceries again (serving jobs are MY FAVORITE), which can only mean that my life is going to get thrown for a loop pretty soon. You should all know by now stability and I don't quite get along.
DATING STRIKE UPDATE:
The official end of the dating strike was February 20th. I tried my hand at Tinder. Got uncomfortable. Deleted the app. Re-downloaded the app. Got bored of "Hey!" "Hi." "How are you?" "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" Had a conversation with one seemingly nice individual that essentially asked me if I was a man-hating feminist after he asked what I was looking for in a guy and I said someone who respects me as an equal........KTHANKSBYEE. Delete account. Delete app.
I think I'd much rather have someone fall for my sometimes uncomfortably deep laugh from across the room a year from now than force feed conversation until I get sick of pretending I'm interested in the kind of music some random guy who thinks I'm cute because of a few pictures and a Charles Bukowski quote. I can't do it. I love love stories far too much to ever let mine start with a "Swipe Right."
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