Well this is a first - blogging on my birthday. Its 22.56pm and by rights I should be out on the cocktails celebrating life with the help of my friends, or, should I be part of a couple, I should also be out celebrating - my beau celebrating the fact that I was born maybe?
But where am I? Home. Home with a vodka. Home with vodka listening to the music of Nashville and bastard well blogging. How the hell did I get to this point in life? I do actually have a boyfriend. He has failed to say happy birthday to me so how much of a boyfriend he will remain is not yet clear. We had a lovely dinner sat in silence. If there is something that I hate most in life its eating with someone in fucking silence. He knows this, yet he did this. On my birthday. Twat. Do you think he is trying to tell me something? I had a look through todays timehop from two years ago today and we had a blissful day, so much in the throws of new romance, so ridiculously happy. What the fuck has happened in two years? Life. Life has happened. We have grown jaded and far to at ease with each other. For fucks sake its not uncommon for one of us to have a number 2 in front of the other. And these ridiculous things have brought us to this merry state we now find ourselves in - Him unable to say happy bastard birthday to me, and consequently ruining a birthday dinner, and well in short a birthday. Fuck knows how many of them I have left any more either given the ridiculous age that I have turned! I am somewhat full of rage right now. Vodka infused rage. How the hell am I supposed to say 'I do' to a man that cant utter happy birthday to me? Oh yeah - we are totally engaged by the way. It really is that black and white. We did not have an argument yesterday, he just was weird from the moment his keys turned in the lock today. I know these Turks dont make an effort for birthdays, etc - but considering the fuss I have always made for his to make him feel special - I thought I would have at least got a cunting HAPPY BIRTHDAY! How wrong was this silly socialite? A pal of mine recons it may run deeper than not wishing me happy birthday, but really it doesnt. I was more than happy to get wed, all things considered. I am a simple kind of gal - I need the basics - I need happy birthdays. He said I pushed him to say Happy Birthday. Too bastard right I did. He didnt say it when he walked through the door, he didnt say it when he handed me 2 bars of Tobleron and he didnt say it when I asked why he hadnt said it while we were in the restaurant. I think I put too much emphasis on days like Birthdays, Christmas, New Year, etc. They always turn out wank so why bother with them? I'll tell you why - cos sometimes you think that someone will make the fucking effort to say a HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY. And fair play - I got loads of happy birthdays today via facebook, just not from the one person that is supposed to care above everyone else. Why? I do not know. So here I am supping my vodka and boring holes into his back (and giving him the bird) while he plays on his mother fucking video game having the best time ever. I actually wondered to myself would I be better off how I used to be, single and fabulous? I seem to remember having quite a lot of fun as a single socialite, what happened to that? I thought things couldnt get much worse, but guess what - they did. I turned 34. Today. And that fucker has not wished me a happy bastard birthday. I am feeling under appreciated, taken for granted and pretty much shit. Well thats not the way this cookie crumbles - fuck that shit. I will not be taken down by a novice! My heart was broken once before and I dragged my way back from the depths of shitsville - I can do the very same again, just fucking watch me. I am a 'TAKE NO SHIT' gal and I swear to god I will take no shit, not from a Turk nor a bloody billionaire! Its gonna take more than that to pull me under! I want MORE!!!!! I NEED MORE!!!! Starting with HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY BITCH!
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