It's My Party & I'll Cry If I Want To

Last year, almost an exact year ago I wrote about a sad love story between a friend and I. I consider it a love story because I really loved her, she was a soul person to me, and so when we went our separate ways it was just as heartbreaking as if it had been a romantic relationship ending. It is important to note this because of the intense contrast that I have had in this year compared to last.
***

The cake of my dreams <3<3

I, like maybe a lot of other people, always assume no one actually likes me. I have probably written this before. When surrounded by friends and part of "the group", I am just waiting for someone to pop out of a corner and tell me that I am being punk'd, that it isn't real.

I turned 25 last Tuesday. It is a big deal because 25 is kind of important, but also because birthdays are special to me. From birth to 18 my mother made sure that my birthday was special - not extravagant, but special. 19-24 were up to me and I basically did an awful job and spent most of those birthdays crying alone in a corner, specifically when I turned 20.

It is embarrassing for me to ask to be the center of attention. I love it, I crave it- but not if I've asked for it. Because if I ask for it, that means that I have a 50/50 chance of it not happening. That means that there is an opportunity for me to create my own humiliation in case someone/the world/society doesn't give me the attention I ask for. Asking people to come to me, to celebrate me, to party simply because I was born, is embarrassing. So, around my birthday each year I debate on which is worse - re-living my 20th birthday eating stale cereal and doing chemistry homework alone, or biting the bullet and hoping that at least half of the people I invite say yes.

New York Friends!!

This year, I didn't want to be my usual lame self. I wanted to be fun! I was about to officially become an adult and that meant that I had to get it together and throw myself a party. So in mid October I invited about a dozen friends to come join me. And they all said no, aside from one. I was aghast. I was filled with humiliation. I did have a handful of local NYC friends who agreed to join me, but I was so mortified that everyone from out of town had said no that I didn't have it in me to make it work with those who were going to join. So I didn't make a plan, and then it was about 5 days until November and I still had no plan. I continually told the lone friend who was joining me not to come because I wasn't going to be fun and I didn't know what to do.

I can only describe my emotions in GIF/video, pop culture form, so please, let this do the talking. It was my nightmare.

Looking Fabulous, duh.

So I start calling my mom every 3 or 4 days, almost in tears about how unloved I am. About how much I have done for these people over the years and how I mean nothing to them. (As I write this out, I see how dramatic it is, but, this is my life people.) I lament about how no one should ever have to throw themselves parties because it is humiliating if no one comes to the party you personally asked people to attend and why am I such a loser?! This leads into conversations about how much of a total screw-up I am. How I am almost 25 and have nothing going for me, how I can't even manage to keep my room clean and I can't get a dog yet. I have a tendency to spiral out of control, if you couldn't tell.

Birthday Biddies 

And then my mom came to town, as she had been planning for the last month or so. She showed up to my job looking all sorts of glamorous and rushed me into a fitting room. I knew she had something planned and I had been assuming it was to go see Les Mis. She makes me put on a gold and purple sparkly dress complete with full accessories and then we rush home so I can change me shoes. I mention that it is in the wrong direction and she says it is fine, that we have time. So after a quick shoe change she hustles me into a taxi and again heads into the wrong direction. Maybe I was just exhausted (I was) or maybe I am ditzy (I am) or maybe I have abnormally low self esteem (I do) but I still assumed we were going to see Les Mis. We pull up to a family friend's bar, and I silently chide my mother for sending a text message while sitting in the stopped taxi. (Proper etiquette: You pay your cabbie, get out of the car, then send your text, but I digress.)

A (almost totally inclusive) group shot

We step into the bar, I notice a bunch of people wearing masks and the only thought that crosses my mind is that having a party the day after Halloween is kind of dumb. So I pull out a chair to sit down because my mom is just standing in the doorway and I am wearing 5 inch heels after all.

And they yelled surprise.
And I looked around, just for a moment, because I didn't know who the surprise was for.

And it was for me.
And it was everyone that I thought didn't love me.
And my mom, my poor mom that I had abused via my own self-pity and hate for two weeks, had planned the whole thing.

I kind of wanted to write thank you notes, but that is a very grown-up thing to do, and I am not very grown-up yet. So this is a big thank you note.

Thank you to my family, my brother, my dad (although I still wish you had brought the dog along), my grandmother, and my mom. Everything is impossible without you.

with my family!

And thank you to my friends! To the ones who traveled not so far (although I do know what it is to travel across boroughs on a Saturday night, ugh.) Thank you Ariel & Di (and your men!), Andrew, Joanna, Lisa, Kara, and Vickie. And to the friends who did travel quite far- Bryanna, Paige & Flynn, Kristy & Tim, Kelsey, Kate, Sarah, Juleeann.



Thank you for starting my 25th year of life without tears, without whining. With joy and with friendship and with lots and lots of sparkles!

(Also - shout out to the people who couldn't make it. I love you too! There's always my 30th ;) )