Pretty pathetic, I know! That tends to happen when your partner takes no notice of you; when that person successfully goes out of their way to make sure you have a horrible, sad and lonely day. The days leading up to your birthday should be filled with joy, excitement and anticipation, not anxiety, dread, sadness and resignation.
I don't know why I allowed myself to believe this year would be different. I knew exactly how the day would begin and end. I would wake up, make coffee and breakfast. Wash up the dishes, clean the kitchen and then sit in front of the tv and wait for him to awake, then wait some more and then some more after that. Finally, I would give up and go out on my own and treat myself to something special (mani-pedi.) I would return home and continue on waiting until he felt like going out, at which point he would find a way to pick a fight, ruin our outing and then blame me for it.
The fight of the day was sex. My unwillingness to "hurry up and have a quickie before going to dinner." I don't know about you, but I just really enjoy being pressured into sex (not!), or using sex as an incentive to go out with me. I mean, how could I think that going out to a place of my choosing, at a time of my choosing, on MY birthday was an option? Or that NOT having sex would be ok! Really, my bad mankind! I quite forgot myself on the selfish pursuit of a some minimal birthday joy! I quite forgot my place! You know the one, the place that dictates that I should be up for some hanky panky whenever his mood suits, that only his needs matter, that I am to be cook, maid, sex slave, secretary, etc.
Thus, instead of sex, or dinner or anything remotely pleasant on my birthday, I lay here in bed; eyes swollen from tears, ego bruised and heart broken. As I lay dramatically crying into my pillow, in walks his royal majesty to declare that I have made him feel less of a man by rejecting him. Mind you, I didn't actually reject him, I just rejected his approach; his need to make even the one day of the fucking year where the universe (or at least my small universe) should take note of me, about him and his incessant needs.
Truthfully, I knew this would happen. I foresaw it, previous years acted as precedent. At the last minute, some major fight erupts, thus freeing himself of having to take me out; allowing him to resume his couch seating/video game routine, completely uninterrupted.
I know, this is my fault. I allow it. Year after year, the serpent chasing its tail. I should quit my whining and do something about it. Leave the bastard! You say. Easier said than done. Marriage has been hard, mostly awful. And so, here I lay, a bit sadder, more broken and one year older. Next year I will forget to celebrate and save myself the pain. Today I go to bed with a belly full of self pity and a heart full of disappointment. It's 9:19pm, I'm 32. Goodnight.
