Due to the fact my birthday lands on a Sunday, I decide it’s best to celebrate it on a Saturday so there won’t be any excuses of being late on Monday morning due to excessive hangovers.
The plan is for guests to meet at the loft, have a drink and a quick nosh, then head off to the bar/lounge/club. I make an invite, send it to friends, and remind them (with plenty of advance notice) about the night.
On Saturday, I do a little light shopping, buy a couple things, get the place ready and then I wait around for people to start to show up.
Then, something starts to happen...
One by one, my guests start to bail on me. They start to send texts and Facebook messages, saying they’re not able to make it. They’re coming down with something. They’re sick. They have other (sudden) plans. It’s cold outside. Not one of them comes out and says they don’t want to come.
Luckily, two friends are able to come down for a drink. They both arrive after a long day at work and chill for 45 minutes while I - mildly
- entertain them. By the time I’m ready, one of them is asleep on the sofa. It seems like a perfectly suitable action, for me, but I’d rather go out, no matter how cold it is outside.
A cab is called and we’re on our way to a club. It’s so close by, it takes less than five minutes to get there. My friends pay for my entrance fee, coat check and drinks. We go upstairs, dance for an hour, then leave. It’s always good to leave an event while it’s still going on; no one wants to be the last, pathetic one left (and everyone asks about your whereabouts).
They pick up a slice of pizza around the corner from the club and we veg/slowly fall asleep at the table. I pull out my cell phone and see there’s a text from S, the nice ex. Hmmm, that’s something I didn’t expect, especially when it ends with xoxo.
It’s only 1:30 a.m. but we’re tired. All three of us have been up since before 8 the day before.
We say our goodbyes and they take a cab uptown while I walk home. It’s not that cold and the exercise will do me good. It’s almost 2 a.m. by the time I hit the sheets. I don’t care. It can be tiring being me. Tomorrow is a national holiday in Canada to celebrate my birth, so I have to be fresh when I run by two photoshoots to ensure things are running properly.
The only downside of it all was seeing someone spilled cranberry juice (probably with vodka) down the front of my white dress shirt... and everyone bailing out on me.