I wondered the other day if I was allowed to blow out my birthday candle and make a wish. That may seem like a strange thought, but this is not your average year, and most certainly, it is not even close to my average birthday celebration. How does one rejoice when the world is in the midst of a pandemic? I'd like to ignore that we are in one, but everywhere I go, there's no mistaking it. You can be certain, though, that as strange as it will be, I'll mark this year in a way that is uniquely me.
Would it be different this year if I had a Patrick? (If that doesn't makes sense, I suggest you immediately stream Schitt$ Creek.) Since all I've had is time during these months of up and down lockdown, I'm betting it would be. And that got me thinking about the time someone asked me the length of my longest relationship. I'm constantly surprised at the reaction I get when I tell them the last time I had any hint of one was over 25 years ago. I never set out to not have a boyfriend. In fact, it was quite the opposite. When I first went to the bars, I was overwhelmed. I was head over heels in love with the idea of love. Admittedly, my first attempt at a pickup line was quite embarrassing, and I won't even repeat it, but I remember how scared I was to even talk to the boy next to me. Flash forward and I'm now so far from that shy boy who could feel the pit of his stomach twisting into pretzel knots. But, now, what has tied me into a tangled mess is the state of the world in 2020.
It used to be that I could go anywhere alone and never be just that - alone. Now, it seems everyone just wants to be alone, or at the very least, not be with anyone who is outside their circle. In the old world, I'd have dinner at the restaurant bar or just go for a drink, and I'd smile at a man, which sometimes put them at ease and other times, it made them quite nervous. I'll admit, I always found that fun as they'd shift in place or move away from me as if I were some land roving piranha. Where my confidence came from after that first feeble attempt at a pick up is anyone's guess. It's hard to imagine that I'm the same person who returned to a bar on Christmas Eve because a man he met in the Fall told him he'd be back in town. That's one for the record books for sure.
But that was a holiday memory, not a birthday one, so I digress. One of the best birthdays I had was, in fact, with that aforementioned relationship. We went to Golden Gate Park. The man who had completely captured my heart made us a picnic lunch, complete with an alcoholic beverage, of course. I didn't care that the world was watching. The memory of that day is so vivid, even as this pandemic fraught world threatens to seep into my brain and destroy everything that is good, I can still remember our conversation on that birthday. I can describe the feel of his hands, the taste of his lips, and how safe I felt wrapped up in his arms. The world was right side up then, but it was me alone who was upside down.
There's the birthday I spent in Memphis. I was on business and walking on Beale during Dead Elvis Week (look it up). There was the birthday I turned 37. I remember it only because I loved being that age. I loved the sound of that number. It has such gravitas, it made me feel like I could take on the world. I was no longer 30, yet - not quite 40. There was something powerful about it. There was the birthday I boldly asked a bartender to be my present and to my utmost surprise, he said yes. And then, of course, there was the infamous 50, where I was so overcome with mid-life demons that I floundered around like a fish on the deck of a ship desperate to be thrown back into the ocean that was its home.
Now, I'm turning 55 in a world that is not only different from the one before, but will also be forever unique to the one that comes after it. I can't tell you what waits on the other side of this number, or how I really feel about turning such a nondescript age, but I can tell you that, no matter what, there will be a new world. Will people at the bar move further away from me because I dare to smile at them? Will there even be people at the bar? Will they be so desperate for human interaction that someone might come back to the bar to specially see me because I tell them I'm there every other weekend? Will they stay in the bubbles they've created and forget that there's a world out there? There are a million different scenarios to a million different situations.
Whatever the case -unlike the big deals I have made over my birthdays, not having one with a Patrick has never disappointed me as much as it has others. I do, though, hate how 55 will be married to a virus, but the great thing about marriages is that they also come with divorce. So whether I'm allowed to blow out my candle this year or not, it's not hard to guess what the wish encompasses. And, on the off chance you guess it's for a Patrick, well, since there are two 5s in this year's birthday, I guess you can grant me two wishes.
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