Although it's not for a week or so, I celebrated my birthday with a dinner and an intention to return to my house for cake and cocktails. I do not consider myself one of those crazy bow-down-before-me birthday zealots. But I admit that it's nice (really nice, actually) to have people gathered in one spot to celebrate the simple fact that I exist.
The first person (of importance) to bail was my brother-in-law. He claimed sickness although Edward questioned it because he is rarely sick.
The next person was my mother-in-law. She has known about this party for weeks now and even mentioned the fact that her brother would be in town and may she bring him. (Of course!) The two of them apparently spent the day working on Edward's grandmother's taxes and it was so enthralling, they "couldn't get away." It was hurtful but it was more hurtful because there's a pattern. She has historically ignored my birthday for many years. Do I think she obssessively pays attention to THE day and then makes a concerted effort not to contact me, psychically or otherwise? No. But it's the fact that I don't even warrant an email or a text and I've been her daughter-in-law for effectively 18 years.
She attempted to salve the offense with an offer to take me out to lunch. It's a nice thought but the offer was to take place during a weekend at a cabin with friends (which she is also attending). A weekend with my friends in the woods and you want me to go off with you "for the day"? She is not a stupid person which is why this offer confuses me. "During my replacement Burning Man weekend, I would TOTALLY like to abandon my friends so we can spend the day seeing a historical monument that I've already seen and having lunch. And you've offered to drive! How thoughtful."
And then there were the number of emails received throughout the day from people who "couldn't make it." Nevermind that reservations were made at the restaurant and that Stuart made arrangements for everyone who wished to attend. He specifically asked for RSVP's in order to make sure there was space for everyone. I received no stories of "a bear attacked my tent", "my desert home is currently flooded" or "I have an owwie." It was simply "I can't make it but have a wonderful day." Which would have been PERFECTLY ACCEPTABLE before you know, THE DAY.
The tiny bits of life lint on the already marred frosting were the folks who RSVP'd and never said a damn word. I only knew of the whereabouts of two missing friends because another friend at the dinner texted them to ask where they were.
I really don't mean to be a princess here. (Although, I think if there's a day in one's life where you're allowed to a princess, it's probably on your birthday.) But the rudeness just kills me. This wasn't a giant blow-out Project-X-esque party where one soul or ten wouldn't be missed. It was a smallish birthday party. The guest list was carefully chosen. The seats of the absent were painfully apparent.
Most of the people who came to the restaurant opted not to attend the cake and cocktails at my house. Some of them said it and some of them didn't but the reality is that it was "too far." It was about 35 minutes door-to-door and in the sprawlfest that is our city, that is not a bad commute. I pretended to be a gracious party girl and claimed to understand but the wound quickly turned into a bloody mary.
The bright spot in the I-love-you-but-driving-a-half-hour-for-you-is-too-much was the arrival of two friends late last night. I only had about another two hours of party in me when they arrived but when I thanked the male partner for coming, he said "We thought we'd get more time with you here and your birthday is important to us. We wanted to see you and celebrate with you." It was unexpected and helped to tame the birthday embers.
I am loved. I know this and I appreciate the people in my life who make the effort to let me know this on a regular basis. I am grateful to as have many wonderful people in my life as I do. But I am still confounded by the notion that it is somehow acceptable to RSVP to a birthday party and not show up.
The tricky part now is resolving my hefty feelings of annoyance towards the ill-mannered. I'm not sure it's useful to say "It really hurt my feelings that you RSVP'd but didn't come to my party. Do you eat with your elbows on the table too?" What exactly does one do with these seemingly 9-year-old-but-dammit-they're-valid feelings?
Probably nothing. The reality is that the next time theres a function and I'm in charge of the guest list, I will want to NOT check the almighty social cool-ness box next to their name. And then I will have a mildly schizophrenic conversation with myself about whether or not I'm being a petty bitch. Oy.
Cake? There's plenty left over.
