My 30th Birthday-February 2001

  My supportive family and friends surrounded me the year I turned thirty.  They threw a party at a local bar a few days before my birthday and from what they tell me, I had a great time.  I received an abundance of cards, flowers and gifs days prior to my birthday and loved it all.  Everyone went out of their way to distract me from the fact that I was turning thirty and from the fact that I cancelled my wedding three months earlier.  It’s not every day a newly single girl turns thirty on Valentine’s Day.

    “You’ll be fine, it’s just a number.”  Played over and over in my head as I sat quietly in my living room the night before my actual birthday.  It was only eight pm, too early to go to bed.

I didn’t have the energy to turn on the television or walk into the kitchen to pour myself a much needed glass of wine.  Instead, I sat on my couch for hours and stared at the flickering light from the candle that I lit.

At some point I made my way to bed.  I continued to stare blankly at the ceiling in my bedroom while I attempted to fall sleep.  Every time I closed my eyes, images of my Ex-Fiancee appeared which forced me to open them again.

 I just couldn’t stop thinking about the last ten years of my life.  The need to figure out what went wrong was overwhelming.  What could I have done to avoid being a single girl tonight?  Why couldn’t I see the signs that were clearly there?  Why didn't I end our horrible relationship sooner?  It was a painful night of self reflection and at no point did I come up with any answers. 

 The alarm went off like many mornings before.  I turned to face the blaring machine to hit the button and was relieved that the night was over.  I never fell asleep.  I rolled out of bed slowly and sat on the edge of it to cry.  This was the first Birthday/Valentine’s day in the last ten years that I didn’t have anyone special to share it with. 

 I walked to the bathroom, took a long look in the mirror, like I’m sure many women do, and didn’t notice any major changes.  Other than the swelling around my dark circled eyes, my face was still looking good.  “Sweet, no wrinkles yet” I said to myself hoping it would make me laugh, it did a little.   I got through the rest of my morning rituals without shedding another tear. 

 Being sleep deprived and depressed made my short drive to work seem like it took hours.  I parked next to familiar cars and waved to the usual people. 

  “We’ll wait for you!”  Shouted a coworker as I made my way towards a group of ladies.  “Thank you.  Good morning.”  I said once I reached them. 

   “Good morning and happy birthday.”  One of the girls said and handed me a box of chocolates.  An overwhelming desire to cry came over me but I stopped myself.  I smiled and thanked her.

   “Don’t worry, it’s almost over.”  She said knowing it was the perfect thing to say.

     My work day went just as I thought.  I was greeted with “Happy Birthday” as I walked through the halls of the hospital.  I found colorful gift bags, candy and cards on my desk which made me smile.  I received floral arrangement from friends and family and two bouquets were from “A Special Friend.”

 The excitement of finding out who the “Special Friend” was entertained me.  I made a call to the florist in hopes that sender was someone special.   I was disappointed to find out that the mystery man was a creepy sales rep that came in to sell his product to the nurses I worked with. 

  “He expensed it to his company and asked that I list them as funeral flowers on the receipt.”  The florist said. 

  “That’s gross.”  I said and the florist agreed before wishing me a happy Valentine’s Day.   

  I got through the day somehow and left work feeling positive.  I drove into my apartment complex and stopped at my mailbox to collected additional birthday wishes. I pulled into my parking stall and glanced at the pile of cards on my lap. I sat in my car and flipped through all of colorful envelopes until I came across one without a return address which raised my curiosity.

 I tore the white envelope open while sitting in my idled car to solve my second mystery of the day.  My eyes shifted immediately over to the signature and noticed it was from the Ex Fiancée.  I didn’t read the crap he must have agonized over to write between the folded pieces of paper. Instead,  I let out a chuckle of disbelief, got out of my car, walked over to the dumpster and flung in his birthday wishes in.

 I entered into my apartment, closed the door behind me and took in a long deep breath.  I stood still in my kitchen for a few minutes then looked around the room.  I noticed all of the empty areas that once held my Ex’s things.  The top of the refrigerator was missing the oversized plastic jars of powder shake mixes.  I looked down and noticed that his boots were gone too.  I wondered why it took me almost three months to become aware of the fact that his things were gone. My body trembled a little as the fact that I am truly alone hit me again.  “He’s a liar and a cheater.”  I reminded myself as I walked towards my kitchen cabinets.

 I reached up for a glass and placed it on my kitchen counter next to a bottle of red wine.  I opened the bottle and poured myself a generous helping.  I then headed for the fridge, flung it open and pulled out the left over Chinese food from two nights ago.  I successfully juggled the food and wine as I walked into the living room.

I sank into my couch, turned on the television and devoured all of the leftover.  “Happy Birthday to me.”  I sang while lighting a cigarette after my birthday dinner.

I looked around my apartment and didn’t notice his missing things; instead I focused on what I added to enhance my home.  I loved the candles and new pictures I hung.  I glanced over at the beautiful floral arrangements on my kitchen table and smiled.  The sight of the red and pink heart shaped boxes of candy surrounding the flowers reminded me that I really wasn’t alone. There were many people in my life who loved me.

After dinner, I went upstairs to take a shower before bed.  I was pretty drunk by the time I walked into my bedroom and had an unexplainable urge to see my wedding dress.  I pushed through the clothes in my closet and pulled the white garment bag from the back of it.  I threw the bag on my bed and unzipped the metal zipper to expose the sparkling white and beaded beauty.  I felt the wet towel fall to my ankles as I tugged at my wedding dress.  It was caught on something inside the bag but I was determined to get it out.

 While yanking on the hanger, I flashed back to the day that I chose this dress: 

I must have gone to dozens of stores and pissed off a few sales associates before I found this one.  My mother and grandmother desperately wanted to be a part of picking out my dress which was understandable but I wasn’t sure why my father was interested too.  The four of us searched the state of Connecticut for weeks before arriving to a tiny dress shop in the middle of nowhere.

 I didn’t love the dress on the rack but at this point, it was all a numbers game.  It was the sixth dress I tried on that day and I was exhausted.  The sales associate zipped up the dress and it just felt right against my body. I inspected every angle of the dress through the multi panel mirror looking for a flaw, there weren’t any. “I think this is the one.”  I whispered to the fatigued woman helping me. 

 I walked into the waiting area of the dressing room and stared at myself in the additional mirrors, waiting for a reaction from my family.  No one said a word.

   “Well, what do you think?”  I asked hoping to hear something, anything.  Still silence.  I looked in their direction through the mirror and noticed that they were all crying.  I focused intently on my father.  The sight of his tears streaming down his face made me feel like a little girl again looking for his approval and I got it.  It was confirmed, this puffy white mound of material was the “one”. 

  Tonight, I look at this over priced garment and realized that I spent more time looking for the perfect dress than I did looking for the perfect husband.  “What the hell” I said as I stepped into my dress. Once it was on, I twirled around a few times until I caught my reflection in the hallway mirror. “Damn I look beautiful” I said out loud. 

  I ran downstairs while wearing my dress for more wine.  I was disappointed that no one was over to see how stunning I looked.  But, on the other hand, I was glad that no one was here to see this pathetic display of self pity;  sitting on my kitchen counter wearing my wedding dress, drinking wine from the bottle and holding a cigarette between my fingers.  Nice.

I caught my reflection again in the kitchen window.  “I do look pretty, pretty sad.”  I said out loud then laughed uncontrollably.  It was a stupid joke but it made me feel a lot better.  In that crazy moment; everything made sense.  I wasn’t just drunk, I was actually happy.  I didn’t have to be in a relationship with someone who scared me.  I didn't have to walk on eggshells to avoid arguments everyday of my life.  I didn't have to find out he was unfaithful. 

Being alone is much better than being in a bad relationship.

 “I’m free!”  I shouted.

I couldn’t believe that I was depressed only a few hours ago.  My smoked filled living room felt so open and spacious.  I knew right then and there that there was much more to me and to my life than getting married.  I knew that I was going to be going to be just fine. I also knew that I was going to be extremely hung over in the morning. 

I was right.  I was hung over the next morning but still very optimistic.  I looked forward to dating again but this time I promised myself to be in total control.  I will weed through the losers and date only mature men; I heard that they do exist.  How difficult could it really be to date?

I couldn’t wait to get out into the dating world to find out!