My birthday was on Monday. I had wanted to do something extra special for it this year since it was a milestone birthday, but I ended up not doing anything over the top. I went to my usual favorite restaurant, a pizza place that is unique to the state I live in (as far as I know, anyway) and then went to Barnes and Noble afterwards. They were having a fifty percent off clearance and they had an Italian leather journal that I wanted for several years but never got because it was so expensive. But because it was half off and I had a gift card, I ended up getting it. Maybe I was meant to get it since it was my birthday and everything. Sometimes the universe aligns with you on certain days just to make you feel special.
Throughout my twenties, one of my birthday wishes was that someone would take me out on a date. I hoped against hope that someone would send me a message through social media and tell me that they wanted to take me out and celebrate with me. I even hoped that they’d make a confession and tell me that they liked me and wanted to go out on a second date. It never happened unless you counted a time a few years ago when I asked a guy to hang out with me for my birthday, but I never counted that as a date.
It didn’t happen this year, either. I can’t decide if I’m disappointed or not. I’m not surprised, but it could have been better. For some reason, I thought turning into a new decade would be somehow magical, and yet I still feel the same. Unchanged. Un-magical. How funny that we put so much pressure on making something special and it doesn’t feel that much different.