Let me set the scene a little. It's Friday night. It's my birthday. I didn't make a big deal out of it, not this year. Last year, fuck yeah I did. But not this year. I was happy about it too. Boyfriend tells me a couple days before my birthday that two of Our Good Friends wanted to take us to dinner for my birthday. It's a couple we both know, and I've known both of them kind of forever anyway, so I was really excited. It's nice to have another sane* couple to hang with.
(*sane -- not involved in domestic violence, drama, or any outward freak nasty-ness...at least the un-fun kind...)
I decide okay....so we're having dinner. But I kind of want to see my people. I feel like a gathering is in order, and we always hit the local watering hole, so maybe a house party. I asked Boyfriend to ask another one of Our Good Friends -- who happens to be a computer fucking genius, and should you need any help with yours, just ask. I'll hook you up with his number. He's legit. -- to let us host a party at his place. Boyfriend comes back with a YES so I do the logical thing and make a fucking Facebook event. It's just easier. I invited 100+ people because....I did. Whatever. Nobody ever shows up anyway. Not ALL the people. So awesome. Plans are set, I'm feeling good. I hydrated. I rested. I even got some birthday money from my mom. $31. Sweet! (but sweet like pickles, not like cupcakes)
Boyfriend starts feeling a little under the weather. Has a cold. I immediately jump into ACTIVATE SPECIAL NEEDS NURSE MODE and grab all the fixin's for Hot Toddy's, cough drops, cold meds, the works. Even got him some of his favorite ice cream (which he didn't even eat. I'm lactose intolerant. Hellooooo) We spend Thursday and most of Friday in bed, marathoning Entourage. Yes. You read that shit right. I love Jeremy Piven.
Friday evening rolls around. Boyfriend says he feels well enough to go to dinner and the party afterwards. To be completely honest, I kind of felt like crap Thursday and Friday myself, Trigeminal Neuralgia garbage, so I was being pretty self-indulgent AND playing nurse at the same time. Multitasking, bitches. It's a Mom thing. I think. I get dressed. But I'm confused. Boyfriend says, "The reservations are at 8..."
There isn't a damn place in my town that A). takes reservations AND B). isn't fancy. So I'm worried now. I don't want to look fancy. I was doing really good to have pants on. He assured me it wasn't fancy. I MADE him assure me it wasn't fancy. I was legitimately concerned. So I'm dressed. He's dressed. And we're waiting. Says one of Our Good Friends is running a little behind. I think nothing of it because Good Friend works a lot out of town, and I don't know the guy's schedule. Shit, they were buying dinner. I damn sure couldn't complain. But I was concerned about this fucking reservation. What if we lost our table? Where were we going? What the fuck?
And then I thought about it. I said FUCK IT. It's my birthday. I reserve the right to not give a fuck.
We head over to Our Good Friend's house. I always get lost going there. Always. Always. Always. We get out and go in. Our Good Friend answers the door, says her man is just finishing up getting ready.
AND THEN THE HOUSE EXPLODES WITH PEOPLE AND NOISES AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY'S AND HUGS AND LOVE AND KISSES AND JOY.
Boyfriend set me up with a surprise party. I've never had one before. I never suspected a damn thing. I had no fucking clue. At all. And what do I say? What is THE FIRST THING that comes out of my mouth?
"I AM SO GLAD I PEED BEFORE I LEFT. YA'LL SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!"
Birthday was GREAT. And Boyfriend got all the nursing this weekend. Poor guy doesn't feel well right now so I pumped him full of echinacea and antibiotics and Philly cheesesteaks and Tylenol and Advil. Bless that man. He helped me see something I had been missing for awhile : There are people in my life that actually give a shit about me. Depression is difficult and I recently began taking antidepressants again. And I've been struggling with it. Really struggling. And not telling anyone. Not even him. Not even myself, really. But he showed me that I was wrong. My brain is just fritzing because Bipolar. I have the best people around me. And I am goddamn grateful.
I celebrate birthdays for a month. So the next time I feel like getting out and showing out, ya'll better look out. -_-
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