The best birthday present I never got

It’s time for a group post again.  July’s group post is about birthdays.  I’ve been putting off this post for a minute.  Honestly I was just going to skip it altogether.  My birthdays aren’t very memorable.  They’ve never been very memorable.  Until a few years ago I would just stare at my birthday candles, close my eyes, and make my wish.  It was the same wish every year.  Kill me.  Don’t make me live through and suffer yet another disappointing birthday bored, alone, and miserable.  Don’t let me go into another year of life if it isn’t going to better and more exciting than the previous year.

Some people were shocked when I told them that I hated my birthday and it was almost always a huge disappointment to me.  The worst part about it is that my birthday hasn’t felt even remotely special since I was a kid.  It’s just another day.  A hollow, empty, joy less day.  Every time October 4th comes around I want to do one of two things.  One, grab a bottle of something alcoholic, climb into bed, and drink myself into a glorious drunken stupor.  Of course, I’m not really much of a drinker and I think people who drink alone are sad, pathetic, and probably on their way to becoming alcoholics if they aren’t already.  Two, climb into bed with my rifle, open my mouth, swallow the barrel, and pull the trigger.  I made a pesky little promise to someone that I wouldn’t kill myself while she was alive.  I have days when I wish I wasn’t a man of my word.  My birthday usually ends up being one of those.

If it wasn’t for my mom and most recently Val, I probably wouldn’t even celebrate my birthday.  I could see myself just turning off the phones, keeping the blinds closed, lights off, and just shutting myself off for the day.  I wish I could say that honestly that was enough to make me feel appreciated, happy, and special.  Unfortunately, it’s not.  I would like more.  I want more.  I need more.  I’m realistic enough to know it’s not going to happen this year, next year, or probably ever.  However, the heart (and the rest of me) wants what it wants when it wants it. Birthdays aren’t happy times for me.  Ah but I’ve blogged about my hatred of my birthday a few times before.  I wracked my brain trying to come up with a topic that would fit into this post.

Anyone whose been reading me for more than a month or two has probably figured out that most of the big holidays I spend at my sister’s place.  I forget what the holiday was but everybody was at my sister’s house.  I don’t know why or how but the discussion turned to children.  I think one of my sister’s friends had recently had a baby and everyone was kind of ga-ga over the baby.  Everyone is talking about how cute the baby is and how much they want one too.

Sister’s Friend:  Freaky, do you like kids?

Me:  Not really.

SF:  (Laughing) Damn.

Me: (Laughing) Don’t get me wrong.  I’d adore my kids and love them to death but I don’t really like other people’s kids.

SF:  I feel you.  I don’t really like other people’s kids either.

Me:  Well, I like babies but once they start talking they can go back to their mamas.

SF:  So when are you going to make some babies?

Me:  When I find someone willing to let me, I guess.

SF:  I’ll tell you what.  If neither of us have any kids when you’re 30 I’ll have your kid.

I’m glad I wasn’t drinking when she said that because if I had I’m pretty sure I would’ve choked to death.  I tend to be on the quiet side but rarely am I at a loss for words or speechless.  That day I was.  I was convinced she was fucking with me, trying to get a reaction.  I’m playing back the conversation in my mind trying to see if I missed anything but I didn’t it.  I don’t know what look I had on my face but she was just smiling at me.  I’m looking around for cameras, witnesses, or anything that could corroborate what she just said.  Nada.

Me:  Um, about the baby thing, were you serious?

SF:  Yeah.  Why?

Me:  It just came out of no…well, that was probably the last thing I expected to hear you say today.

SF:You don’t want to have a baby with me?

Me:  Whoa, I never said that!  I’m just wondering when we can get some practice in.

SF:  (laughs) You so nasty!

Me:  Why me?

SF:  Why not?  Our families would be related.

Me: That’s a few years away.  A lot can happen then.

SF:  True.  You could be in a relationship and not even want to fuck with me anymore.

Me:  You could have a man and be all lovey-dovey with him and forget all about me and today.

SF:  As long as we ain’t married or have any kids…

Me:  …I can still make a baby with you?

SF:  If your girlfriend lets you.

Me:  Fuck that!  If I have one then and she’s not pregnant I’m going to do what I need to do. She has no say on it.

SF:  (laughs) I bet.

Me:  What?! I’m not getting any younger and I can’t wait forever for a chick to scratch off the 20 million things she wants to do before having a child.

Part of me still didn’t believe we just had that conversation.  She reached over, extended her hand, and told me to shake on it.  I’m still waiting on her to yell out sike or something but it never happened.  I just sat there with a smirk and a look of disbelief on my face.  My sister saw us shaking hands and wondered what was up.  Her friend told her that we just agreed to go half on a baby if neither of us had kids by a certain date.  My sister looked at us, shook her head, and was like whatever.  That would’ve been an interesting pairing.  Too bad it never happened.  By the time either of us turned 30 she already had two kids.  Last time I heard she had three kids.  You win some, you lose some.  Such is life.  It would be nice to win a lot more than I lost though.  Maybe in the next life.

Author: Freaky Deaky I'm a horny, opinionated, smart-ass, antisocial, introverted, misanthropic, agnostic, nonconformist, free thinking, hedonistic, highly intelligent, and arrogant black man with a dirty mind.