I recently had my 39th birthday. I’m fine with being 39, I mean until I turn 40, it will sound like I am trying to hide my real age when someone asks. Like those women who hold on to 25, or 29 for as long as possible. Nope, not for me. I’m 39 for a whole year and then I will be 40, and 41, and so on.
I don’t really get hung up on age. My mother freaked out when she turned 30. She stayed in bed for an entire week, sobbing and wallowing in her spiraling depression, while the rest of the world continued on. Time kept moving, and the sun still rose and set each day. I didn’t understand it then, and I still don’t get it.
My birthdays just always sucked! No parties or fanfare for the event. Just me, wondering why I didn’t get things like my brothers. As a teenager, I began hiding my birthday, just hoping I could get through without anyone making a fuss. Now, as an adult (a full 39 years wise), I simply do not want ANY DRAMA! Just a quiet little happy birthday from my kids, and my H. That’s all.
However, my darling husband put together a huge gesture, and sent me away to a luxury hotel for 3 nights! I really do love that man! Of course when other people found out about my unsupervised weekend, they began inviting themselves. I had to stop the noise, and I allowed 1 to join me. He promised to make my weekend truly memorable! 🙂
In the beginning, it was amazing! Fun and laughter, booze and food, occasionally he would flirt with a waitress, or bartender, or random girl. It didn’t really worry me, we aren’t exclusive to each other. And I was honestly, too drunk to care. By the last night, it was a bit too much for me to just sit through. So I turned it around on him. I took 1 sip of another man’s beer. He flipped the fuck out!
I stormed off to my room, and tried very hard to show him I was finally done with his antics, without being bitchy, or loud, or anything. I just let him know I was hurt. He was the one who started it all, and then started saying that I “went over the line”. Whatever, he was distant until he had no other choice but to pay attention to me.
I couldn’t deal anymore! I took my knife, and went to cut so I wouldn’t cry. He wrestled my knife from me, and stuffed it in his pocket. I got it out, and dashed off to the bathroom to cut. He grabbed my knife again, and stuffed it in his back pocket. Again, I grabbed it. He grabbed my hand inside his pocket, and proceeded to yank and wrestle with me, eventually ripping his jeans. He of course blamed me. But he finally had me in tears, and I told him how he made me feel. I stood up for myself. And I am proud of myself for that!
He left my room. I stayed, crying and texting him to bring back my knife. I needed it! I needed to cut so I could get a release, and stop the stupid crying. I ended up just breaking a razor, and used the little blades to cut my leg. It worked, just not as well as my knife would have done. I watched him go back to the bar, and drink more with the bartender he had flirted with all weekend.
What did I expect? Of course he would do exactly that! He must have had a room at the hotel, or slept in his truck. Either way, I told him to bring my knife back by 9 am as I was leaving early.
I do not want or need his selfish behavior, nor did he have any right to be upset with me, after the way he behaved! I got my knife, and my extra room key, had my shower, and left the hotel. I headed home, tossed back a xanax, and drank a monster to keep my eyes open. I didn’t sleep that night. But, I made it home, and I have never been more happy to see my family! I love them all, and I am so lucky to have them!
I love my family!
Goodbye forever, Bryan Collum!