Birthdays

Celebrating my birthday sucks. I hate all that attention drawn to me and people making a big deal out of something I have zero interest in, like hemorrhoids or looking at baby pictures. I’d rather be alone so I don’t have to “appreciate” the well wishes and pretend like I care. The only time I pretend to care about something is when I’m at work, for which I’m still waiting for my Academy Award.

As for gifts, I hate them too. I’m not a materialistic person and am trying to get rid of things in my life, not add to them. Opening a gift to me is like having really bad sex in front of an audience; I have to plaster a smile on my face, pretend like it’s the best I’ve ever gotten, count the seconds until it’s over, and then need a drink to wash the bad taste out of my mouth afterwards.

The people who know me well, know to ignore my birthday and if they want to celebrate having me in their lives, then take me out another day. In my gay opinon, if you’re a giver or receiver (whatever your preference), the best gift is spending time with someone and having an experience together. I’d rather have memories that last a lifetime than a piece of shit that I have to give to charity.

Speaking of memories, welcome to my May!

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