Adam, this is no way you wish me happy birthday, is it?

Adam never ceases to amaze me. All I got today was “happy birthday babe,” sent in at 4 pm. Well, thank you very much. Adam was out with his friends last night. I suspect that he had too much to drink. Chances are, they toasted to Christmas, the new year, the upcoming Easter holiday, the antics they got up to last time they were this roaring drunk, and the one before that… I’m sure you get where this is going.

This ‘birthday’ problem stems from one of two things: Adam’s inability to learn what makes me happy, or (I will admit freely) my unrealistic demands.

For example: Why would he get me flowers? What will I do with them? They are already dead by the time I get them. Even though the faint scent from the petals may try to tell me otherwise, I know they are already decaying. That scent is to me what formaldehyde is to a corpse. Yeah… thanks Adam, you just made me think of death on my birthday.

Last year, Adam came home bearing a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. I’m a teetotaler. I was going to the gym every evening, and had been on a diet for a month. I had been EXTREMELY sensitive about the folds around my waist – especially since I had seen him eyeing that skinny girl at a company cocktail. Last year’s gift was just screaming how out of touch Adam was with the struggles I was going through. He drank the wine, I gave the chocolates to my friend Maya.

Then there is the year he took me to the Ethiopian restaurant around the corner from our house and the spicy meat though delicious, made my stomach run. I said thank you, apologized for ruining the rest of our night (he had to take me home where I could position myself at a crawling distance to the toilet bowl), and told myself that it was the thought that counted. How could he have known what spice mix my tummy can tolerate?

The thing is, deep down I am a simple girl (demands for clairvoyance aside). Nothing fancy, just wishes for a good year ahead and some ‘hangover free’ time spent together, doing something that did not come from a blog entitled ’25 perfect ways to please your girl on her birthday.’

Truth be told, I decided to spend my birthday with my family this year, so I could give Adam a break. You know what they say, “a bird in hand is worth two in the bush.” Rather than get someone that gets the ‘right gift’, I’d rather be grateful for the ‘gift of love.’

Meanwhile, it is the season for eating chicken and yours truly shall not be left behind. My family and I have caught us a bird. Afterwards, we’ll make the evening happen. Adam will probably be waiting for an sms. “Thanks babe” or “ow, how sweet.” Dear Adam, I am not sixteen, or haven’t you noticed? You’ll have to wish me happy birthday in person, and at this rate, it may have to be belated because I’m sure you’ll be having another boy’s night out.


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