My Special Day
On a plane heading to Columbus, I realize I have no fear. I wonder if this means I can finally smoke weed. Wait, still scary, I immediately correct myself. What other scary stuff is there?
Turbulence. The plane starts shaking, but I feel sort of giddy. Oh. Maybe this is the kind of stimulation I need now, at all times. Shock to system, kick in pants. That’s it: I’m finally gonna ride a rollercoaster. When I get back to New York, I can locate the perfect rollercoaster, but for now, I am totally focused on not ruining my own birthday.
It’s the finale of 27 years old and I am spending it a lot quieter than I have spent past birthdays. It was always big cakes, big dresses, big trips, big parties, but I am shrunken now. Nothing about my existence seems to warrant any amount of fanfare. For an insecure narcissist, this fate seems worse than death. I heavily consider the possibility of entering the 27 Club. I shouldn’t, even though I don’t have that nagging fear of death right now. This newfound apathy toward mostly everything sets the tone as I touch down in Columbus, Ohio for the first time in 3 years.
May 22nd is showtime. I wake up early to rain and gloom. Thematically, this makes sense.
Anthony and I find ourselves walking around OSU campus. All of my favorite places are locked up and all of the students have gone away for the summer. Still, I remember everything that makes me want to scream.
I understand now why those who don’t teach; I watch young women in oversized headphones carrying matcha lattes with their whole lives ahead of them. They have no idea how messy and fucked up it’s all about to get. I start to cry - it’s beautiful in a way I don’t fully understand. I want to hug every single one of them, I want to tell every single one of them a secret only a stranger should know about me, I want them to know something I didn’t.
Anthony and I both miss it, but I think he should miss it less. I feel embarrassed staying in his well decorated and well furnished 2 bedroom apartment. I feel embarrassed walking his two loving and loyal dogs. When I return to New York, I will live in a basement all alone. I will go to a job I do not make enough money at. There will be no weddings of friends, trips with a boyfriend, siblings to visit. I think I fucked up, but I I am trying not to cry more than I need to on this birthday.
We go to Starbucks. I partake in the free birthday drink special teen girls usually abuse by getting the biggest, craziest drink imaginable. I have trouble with greed and the only fear I do seem to have is what I am capable of. I order a very humble grande iced horchata oatmilk shaken espresso, even though Anthony and the barista plead with me to indulge. Why not a venti? It’s your birthday! I am overwhelmed and obsessed with myself - isn’t that indulgent enough?
The barista writes “you rock!” on my cup, but it sort of looks like “you fuck!” and I wish it just said happy birthday! The grande iced horchata oatmilk shaken espresso is good, which makes it bad, which makes me cry. I used to be beholden to huge fake sugary sweet drinks. They ruled my life. Every day, I’d fantasize about what insane drink I could have like how a meth addict wonders how they’ll get their next score. My depression and apathy took the preoccupation away, but I just traded one vice for another. It’s a Faustian deal to get what you want; it doesn’t last forever and it won’t ever satisfy. I don’t like anything that makes me feel good, I only like what makes me feel clean or what makes me feel dirty.
This is a problem. Can you tell? I like to go to spas on my birthday. There is only one spa in Columbus, Ohio and all massage appointments are booked. I settle for a pedicure. I settle for a lot of things. This is Anthony’s first spa experience and he loves the cold plunge. If anything, I feel happy to have been the person to give him this new kind of thrill.
My hot stone foot massage from a white woman raving about Crumbl cookies to her coworker is predictably mid. I try to fall asleep under the gaudy white lights as they discuss stuff I might like if I never had the urge to leave Ohio.
On the way to dinner I play Avril Lavigne songs. Her music played earlier in Starbucks, which contributed to my very misty-eyes. I listened to Complicated a bunch throughout the past year; it fit my misfortune just right.
My ex stepsister Haley meets us for my birthday meal at a fast casual Mediterranean restaurant I always used to like when I lived here. Even though our parents divorced just before I turned 18, Haley is still my only sibling. She spent a lot of time trying to reconnect with me while I spent a lot of time feeling like I didn’t deserve any familial ties. I feel grateful she’s sitting across from me on my birthday and that despite it all, we’ve found each other again.
After dinner, I suggest an escape room. Nobody can say no because it’s my birthday, which is my favorite part of turning a year older. I wish every day could be like this; no one allowed to say no to my ideas ever. I like control. I say I don’t need it or that I’m flexible, but I am immovable. What I want is what I want and I have never gotten over anything ever. I would say I am trying to fix this, but I don’t necessarily believe this deficit even reaches the Top 5 of Maddy Fatal Flaws.
My cousin Nicole joins us for the escape room. No one has done one before except me, but we decide on an intermediate level challenge. Everyone surprises me with how well they work together, how smart they seem to be. I am the weakest link of this game, but I’m not sure how to do any better. I never played games or sports growing up, I just did a whole lot of make believe. In these kinds of situations, I’m reminded of a favorite John Mulaney bit, quoted here:
“I used to drink and then I drank too much and I had to stop. That surprises a lot of audiences because I don't look like someone who used to do anything. I look like I was just sitting in a room in a chair eating saltines for like 28 years and then I walked right out here.”
I think about this joke a lot and how it describes the way I move through the world. Everything I learn has always gone in one ear then immediately out the other. I don’t know if I’ve achieved real humanity; I feel so alien. We conquer the escape room with around 5 minutes to spare, no thanks to me. Maybe I really was just eating saltines until this 28th year of life.
To end my birthday, I watch a graphic film about war. I like violence. I like reality. Movies about space freak me out but movies about war calm me. I start to feel nothing, but I try to put on a normal face for everyone involved.
I am grateful to the people who went out of their way to spend a scary day with me. I am painfully aware of those who were absent, for whatever reasons, on this birthday. It’s made me feel like I’m walking around with a gaping hole in my stomach, like Goldie Hawn in Death Becomes Her. I want so badly to patch the hole up myself, pack up, move on. For once, though, I’ll sit with the bad. It can take up a chair next to me, make me uncomfortable for a little while; I heard that’s what adults are supposed to do.
I will end this piece with my birthday list, which is a stream of consciousness exercise I do each year to describe what I’ve learned, felt, or should do going forward:
every little tiny single thing counts
choice isn’t hard, making it is
sleep might be overrated
routine might be overrated, too
funny is a practice
talent is a practice
neutrals and basics for clothing
patterns and (some) color for home
pleasantry is powerful
feel good spending money you've worked for
events/experience over material items
quality over quantity for material items
nitro cold brew
understanding why you’re upset
turning the other cheek
researching perfumes online
small talk matters
sincerity matters
vulnerable then accountable
then give yourself a try
take interest
do what scares you
be bad then admit it
ohio didn’t hurt
dance about it
walk about it
be happy for them
face it
Here’s to pushing 30 even harder now.
So good
I wasn't crazy about the new horchata thing. I suggest doing venti 50% coldbrew 50% summer berry refresher with all of the fixings. You have to tell them you want the fixings (pearls, little dried berries, etc.), because for some reason if you don't tell them that they will leave them off which I don't understand. All of the refreshers mixed with cold brew are delicious. It's the perfect drink because the cleanliness renewal of the refresher and the harsh incompleteness of the present in the cold brew. Happy Birthday!