24 May / One year older
Today is my darling’s birthday. He’s one year older.
He’s also pretty sanguine about the whole thing because he’s had a week off to prepare himself. I also took a week off work, purely in support of him.
He’s returning the favour when I turn a year older in a month and a bit. He’s taking a week off in support of my birthday. It’s a bit annoying really, because I’m only taking 3 days off, but who am I to complain? He’s so much older than me he needs the extra time off work.
In honour of his birthday month this year (and yes, that’s a real thing if you’re a white privileged male in the minority world with too much time on your hands) I’ve got him…
Honestly, it’s what he asked for and the fact that I was only too willing to oblige was purely to do with supporting him, not because I’m a cheapskate who’s about to take an unpaid break from work.
These things aren’t even close to being related.
At the back of my mind all day long I have harboured a slight worry though. You know those people who say ‘Don’t throw me a birthday party, I couldn’t stand it if you made a fuss,’ and then when you don’t they get all upset?
Well, he’s not of those (I’m still with him) but there was the concern that when he said ‘Don’t buy me a present,’ he actually meant, ‘Don’t buy me a large present,’ and he was going to expect something nice and thoughtful and heartfelt, but cheap.
I am nothing if I am not a person who takes things literally.
There is no present. None. Nada.
I baked some chocolate cupcakes and put far too much butter icing on top of them. I gave him a headrub when he asked for one. I even did the dishes after baking because he likes a clean bench.
This is my present.
Happy birthday, and best wishes for the next year. I’ll have half those cupcakes too, thank you very much.