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After about the age of 20; or 21 if you live a certain lifestyle;  Birthdays rapidly lose their appeal.  Right around 30, that appeal has slid the slippery slope of appeal to fruition, and jumped on the Disdain Expressway.  I loath birthdays, and find the term “Happy Birthday” obnoxious and disturbing.

I try, for the most part, to be cheery and cordial when people throw up the old HB, but inside I want to retch.  I’m grateful for having wonderful people in my life.  Still, birthdays are not a time to reflect on the happiness of the creation of your life.  Birthdays are an opportunity to reflect on the fact that you’re one year closer to death.

It’s an italicized, bold print bullet point on the list of failures and missed opportunities.  When you’re a kid, birthdays are exciting.  If you’re lucky, you get to stay home from school.  You get a big party, with cake and your friends, and balloons, and tons of gifts and if you’re lucky this all happens at Sea World, or Six Flags Great Adventure, or McDonald’s or Chuckie Cheese, or whatever.  That’s the extent of your life anyway, your here and now, so being “Bigger” is a cool prospect.

In your teens, Birthdays are milestones of freedom.  Old enough to be out past dark, old enough to date, old enough to get a job, a license, a car.  It’s moving out of the house (if you’re lucky), being able to get into R rated movies, to vote, smoke, join the military, be independent.  By the time you turn 20, you’re just glad to be old enough to not be called a “Teen” anymore.  21 is OK if you care to drink and you care that it’s legal.

Other then that, what’s left?  Prostate exam age, Social Security, Death?  It’s all down hill.

And I’m just stuck in the middle, except that I’ve reached the age I’ve always set as the marker of all my life goals.

“By the time I turn____ I want to have/accomplished/seen/done/finished…….”

Well it’s here, and I’ve accomplished none of it.  I’ve finished nothing, done nothing.  I have…yep you guessed it…. nothing.  No degree, No kids, No wife, No family, No life, nothing.  And I’ve also reached that age where you’re too old to do certain things too.  If I want to get hired on at a different department in another location, odds are slim to none because this is the cut off age for most.  Passed the prime for the military, Auto racing, professional sports, just about everything.

Also, it’s getting pretty close to the point where if I don’t have kids, I won’t be able to. I know, women always like to say, “Women’s eggs dry up but men can have babies till they die!”  Well that’s a pretty asinine statement.  First off, I’ll concede that genetically yes, that is true.  But lets think about the reality.  Unless you have tons of money,  like Hugh Hefner, you’re not gonna find a women with “fresh eggs” to let your wrinkly old ass bounce up and down on top of her.  Also, I always said I didn’t want to be an old dad, who’s kid has to come home from school and change your diapers.  So if it doesn’t happen pretty soon, it’s just not going to happen.

So No, I don’t find Birthdays to be a happy time.  I hate Birthdays.