MaryB and the City

Make a wish.

So I turned 31 Flavors on Thursday.

Seems like only yesterday I had fully embraced claiming a new decade, and realized the number “thirty” rolled off my lips with ease, now it was already time for another milemarker. How did that happen?

Stereotypically, I have never put too-too much weight on an actual acknowlegement that I was born by way of a party. But maybe that is because more times than not, my friends & family at large “show up” literally & metaphorically. Maybe I took for granted the love, support, and celebration I’d grown to humbly expect during my first three decades on earth.

The cumulative days leading up to, the day of, and weekend following were a bit rough on my ego, to say the least. And let me preface first by saying, I’ve come a long way over the last 10 years with my expectations. It used to *crush* me when people flaked out. I put friends on a pedestal & expect to be met halfway.  Whereas today, after many disappointing, near debilitating reality checks, I’ve narrowed it down to one day a year where you can’t bail — just one single day — all you have to do is show up.

Wednesday — a no-frills Happy Hour was scheduled…to partake in cheap cocktails & hors dourves. Roughly 10 women were slated to attend — two showed up.

Thursday — on my birth certicate’s official rite of passage, not one of my 5 siblings called to say the two staple well-wishing words: Happy Birthday. Facebooking doesn’t count with DNA, sorry. And a few “good friends” were also MIA. That unusual silent treatment really took me by surprise.

Saturday — a very small group of 3, (2 of which were there on Wednesday) were on board to have a legit night on the town with moi — but 1 bailed.

Thankfully, for every low blow, a positive was right around the corner: There were amazing friends who did show up in more ways than one, My Mom sang her faithful rendition of the Happy Birthday To You song on my voicemail, My dear friend from out-of-state drove over 5 hours to spend Friday night with me and happily served as my date to a concert, along with a few unexpected cards in the mail that really touched my heart.

Last but not least, I spent the evening of my birthday with a person who wanted to make some missed moments in the past up to me — Mr. Ex. When he asked me to accompany him on an impromptu Miami getaway recently and I painfully declined [complimentary sand & sun is hard to resist with a man you wanted to marry, thankyouverymuch]…he had also extended a no-strings-attached dinner invitation in honor of my birthday that was conducive to my schedule. While we dated for most of my 20’s, we were also conveniently broken up (over the summer) for the majority of my annual I Exist anniversaries … consequently he was not obligated to take me out or wrap a gift box with a prize inside.

I appreciated the gesture, but not knowing if I’d develop anxiety or break out in hives during the meantime of agreeing to meet, I asked if I could RSVP the day of. Then when the day eventually arrived — equipped with a bruised ego, jilted attitude, no candles to blow out, and zero plans on the agenda, I poignantly decided: Fuck it. I’m in. I’m going to spend my birthday with my Ex.

We went to a beautiful botanical garden in town that spans over 40 acres. Ironically (or maybe not), it was the backdrop of our very first date at my work’s holiday party in the early 2000’s. I sweated out about 1 gallon of water while we strolled around sipping wine and observing majestic living artwork. When plans failed to eat at the restaurant on-location, I requested we visit a new Greek spot instead that received rave reviews. Then finished off the humid night outside with a few scoops of Expresso Oreo ice cream.

I have no regrets and can honestly say that the overall experience was really very enjoyable. We talked about life, dating, lessons, and laughed in between mouthfuls of Chicken Soulvaki. I will always wish him well, while wondering if I’ll ever have that extraordinary connection & chemistry with another person. I will also always wonder why it wasn’t in our cards to be together, ever after.

Speaking of chemistry ~ apparently I haven’t found any with the first four dudes I met from The Match.com last week. Not even Mr. D…the school teacher, who I touted as being super duper. No one has booked me for a second date or followed-up. Ok fine. I didn’t necessarily have sparks flying across the bachelor board on my end either, but still.

Although the first week of my “30+” years got off to a rocky start ~ I’ll never give up hope for brighter days ahead, never stop embracing those who reciprocate friendship by showing up for me, never stop believing in love, and never, ever stop holding out hope that there is someone out there who can’t live without me, too.