Happy Birthday to Romy

This month I have a ridiculous amount of friends with birthdays. How many? Fingers and toes. Today is the birthday of the second person this month and one of my very closest friends. Romy. She's one of the best. She has had not such a good birthday so far. In fact. A very bad one. She's working on a show that she doesn't want to work on (although it is a very good one) and the people working on it (aka actors and actresses) are being not so nice to her. People are weird about their hair. They get kind of snippy. They're lucky Romy's nice. You shouldn't be mean to someone who has scissors in their hand when they're in charge of your hair. You could end up with a mullet. Remember what a bad haircut did to the show Felicity? Anyway, mean people do not make for being excited on your special day. Or feeling oh so special. Particularly if you're feeling oh so not happy about said birthday to begin with. And she's not. Which makes me feel bad. And makes me wish even more that I could afford to send her flowers. Lots of flowers. Perhaps start a blog flower fund? I would also like to send a man. And a baby. And a house. And all the things she wants out of life. Because she deserves them. And she should have them. Whether the universe has delivered them or not. Damn universe. What's taking it so long?

See, that's the thing. The thing that makes it hard. The waiting. The wanting. And the not knowing. And I don't care what anyone says. Age does matter. I'm more than happy to celebrate-- and so is Romy-- but birthdays give you pause. If you're turning 42 and you're single and you don't want to be and you want to be a mother and you want to share your life. That's a painful thing. Particularly if you had a fiancee who passed away suddenly. Which Romy did. She'd rather be helping to blow out her kid's candles than her own. After all, all her younger friends are doing it. Why can't she? Because after awhile you kind of start losing hope. Getting tired of the whole thing. The journey. I know "they" say it's the reward but I don't think "they" were on eHarmony or match.com or planning their own birthday parties at the time. Look, it's not that any of us are naive enough to think marriage equals a perfect life. But it makes for a fuller one. With love, party planners, and companionship. And far more interesting problems than dating or not, having sex or not, being lonely or not and just taking care of yourself, feeding yourself every single day. Because come on, even TV shows get boring after a season. Try living one as the single girl for 20 years.

All of my friends are strong women. Unique. Independent. Caring. Attractive. Smart. Funny. Which makes me lucky to have them. And men unlucky because they don't. Because too many of them are alone. And I don't get it. Apparently, other people don't either-- because a common refrain we all hear is, "Why are you single? What's wrong with you?" Charming, right? And then we're all told success stories and given advice on dating sites and where to meet men. We're very often told what we "should do." And you know, it's not that we don't appreciate the thought, but more than likely, we've already explored the options. I mean, there are a group of us that are single. We do talk, you know. And the "should" thing? Well, frankly, we shouldn't have to worry about it anymore. If only life came with a guarantee.

Look, I would love to get THE ANSWER and so would Romy (for her birthday, perhaps?) and my fingers and toes full of friends. But we have yet to have that happen. Although we do listen. Because we feel like we have to. Kind of like that one date that you don't want to go on. You force yourself to do it. Because you think what if you don't? Maybe he's the one. And you wonder and you'll always wonder what if you blew it? That means more bad dates. More effort. And it's kind of a mind#^$U. It gets exhausting. Having to pick yourself up and get yourself ready. To believe. But still. We believe. We have to believe.

So for Romy. I say, happy birthday to her. I wish her the best. Only the best. The best year. The best man and the best of her hopes for her life to come true in the coming year and years ahead. Since I can't make it happen myself. (I can't even make it happen for myself). Since I can't do much more than blow out a candle and send my hopes for her out to the universe, my hope is that it's enough. For once. And that maybe some other people will wish, too. Even perfect strangers. And whether they know her or not, if enough of them wish hard enough and long enough, it might be just enough to make all of her wishes come true.