Tomorrow is my birthday, I’ll be turning 50 years old. Wow, that’s such a big number. A number belonging to old people, grumpy bosses or nosey mother-in-laws. But there is nothing typical about me. I know.
I see pictures on FB of all the get-togethers, celebrations, birthday parties. People smiling, happy, being near each other, talking and telling jokes. Enjoying life. There will be no birthday party for me tomorrow. There never has been. I don’t draw people to myself in a way that inspires them to do such things.
Ten years ago, on my fortieth birthday, I worked. At the end of the work day I asked my few co workers if they wanted to go do something. They all declined. So I went by myself to a strip club. A strange thing happened there. It must have fallen out of someone’s pocket earlier, but in the darkness and strobe lights I found 3 one hundred dollar bills folded up in a chair near the stage. I didn’t leave that place until most of that money was spent.
I have no plans for tomorrow. I won’t be going to a strip club this time. At my age now there’s not much point. But who knows, I might get lucky, somehow.