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Another birthday
By Devon Wiesend
I work and have class on my birthday most years, and this year is no exception.
It’s that time of the year, folks. The last week of September is always a dreadful time.
I always have exams, papers due and the temperature outside drops. I’m always single and, oh yeah, I get older. That’s right, it’s my f*%#ing birthday.
After turning 21, most people stop looking forward to that one day a year when they leap forward in age. Those of us who have bypassed all of the great birthdays just start dreading them.
I dwell on it for a week before, I cringe for a week after, and it usually takes a couple of months for me to get my age right.
Every year I start to think about all of the things I thought I would have by that age. When 22 arrived, I figured I should be finishing up my last year of college in France. When 23 hit, I wondered why the hell I hadn’t gone to college right out of high school. I would have been done by my 23rd birthday.
This year, my 24th, I feel alone. I was not expecting to be married and have kids, but at least expected to have a significant other.
Nope. All of this is just multiplied by the fact that my mom was married with two kids by the time she was the age I am now. She had health insurance and a car.
What do I have to show for all of these years? I’m halfway to a degree, I live in a studio apartment, no car, no insurance, no boyfriend, no sex.
That’s what I want for my birthday again this year, a hot guy who will do as I say, with a big red bow wrapped around him. He doesn’t have to be perfect, although it would be nice.
I just want someone supportive and kind with an insatiable sexual appetite much like mine, who only wants to be with me.
After all of these years of single birthdays and holidays, I’m ready to take on the challenge of meeting someone I like, not because it’s convenient, but because he’s right for me.
The crushes I have are generally fruitless and more often I end up going out with someone who has a crush on me. I always think that perhaps I will feel something for these nice guys who have the unfortunate curse of liking me.
I recently had a crush on a guy who I thought might actually be good for me. He’s hot, funny, full of personality and intelligent. Unfortunately the crush died because he doesn’t like either of my two favorite authors.
Now this may seem trivial, but you must keep in mind that I’m an English major. I love literature and love to write.
If a man doesn’t like the same types of books I do, how am I to expect he will like what I write? As my writing style is representative of my personality and emotion, his not enjoying my writing is a problem.
I don’t know if this guy liked me, but I was definitely attracted to him. I actually thought about how great a birthday present he would make. Now I stop my crush before it gets out of control and am back to being relationship-goal-less. Not only am I alone, but also I don’t have an interest in anyone. I work and have class on my birthday most years, and this year is no exception.
I won’t be getting any on my birthday and don’t even have someone to daydream about. Come on, unobtainable hot guy, where are you? I need someone to have a crush on.
I don’t want to go through another birthday missing an ex and wondering why I’m alone.
With all of the stress of college, work and life in general, I could really use someone to focus my sexual energy on. My guy doesn’t have to actually date me — sex would be nice, but not required.
He must be single, attractive and intelligent with a great personality. He must be an alpha male. Preferably he should have good, or at least not awful, fashion sense, and be musically inclined. I’m getting older. Where is my white knight, my (young, hot, “Guys and Dolls”-era) Marlon Brando?
It’s my birthday, dammit, I’m tired of kissing all of these frogs. Where is the prince?
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