I’ve stopped celebrating birthdays.
It happened right on the punchline, when I turned 40 years-old. 2016 was a wild year for me, and when it was half over I stared out over the field on which I had previously grown my fucks and saw that lo, it was indeed barren.
So I went for dinner by myself at Lyle’s. Four courses and three glasses of delicious wine later, I was sold on my new, non-event-based life. But Thom, I can hear you thinking through the scanning device I’ve installed in each email, that sounds a lot like a celebration. To which I would reply, yes. Yes it does.
But not a birthday one.
I have nothing against birthdays in principle. (In principle is what you say when you’re a bit iffy about why you don’t like something and are worried you’ll offend someone. See also: per se, but only if you’re some kind of idiot.) I don’t mind getting older, or being the age I am. If anything, my life has gotten better every year, and I can’t imagine not looking forward to that progression.
Birthdays are fine. It’s birthday parties I don’t like. And I think what I don’t like about them is their necessary contrivance, in the same way a wedding could be this great party if everyone forgot all the things they think are supposed to happen at one and just enjoyed the old people drunk dancing with children.
(To be clear, and a complete hypocrite, I like going to other people’s birthday parties. Don’t stop inviting me. And I love going to weddings. I am a fantastic wedding guest. Historically great. Invite me to those too.)
But when it’s my wedding or birthday, it goes like this: I invite you to celebrate this moment with me, because I really like you, and then I talk to all of three people for the entire night. That is not a good return on investment. That is not, shall we say, optimising for engagement.
That’s why I stopped having birthday parties or gatherings or even super casual hangs. (This is also a great way to reduce social anxiety.) Instead, because it’s once again that time, I encourage you with the same directive as last year, and the year before that:
Go out and have a drink, or just enjoy a lovely day with people you like. Given how totally wack-ass the world is, be good and kind to yourselves and each other. While I’m now very glad I was born, it wasn’t always that way. So check in with anyone you think is hurting, but take care of yourself first. Reality hasn’t killed us yet, and we still have each other.
Happy birthday.
DO: Something on my London Percent list.