Happy Last Birthday!

by bye2mrwrong

The title may sound gloomy and depressing, almost implying that someone is about to die. No that’s not really the case, no one is dying here. But today it’s my (soon-to-be ex) husband’s birthday.

I won’t be celebrating his birthday with him; he’ll be doing that with the mistress. I wont be hosting the family for coffee and cake, or taking him out to a fancy dinner (something that had become a tradition). Still I can’t help but reminisce over the last 10 birthdays we spent together. The countless presents I got him, every year’s gesture bigger than the last.

The first year, a few months after I met him, I got him a few of those upside down bottle dispenser, which ended up being such a brilliant gift that he decided to build a whole bar in his house. The year later I bought him a beer tender (yes there is a trend here – my husband likes to drink). A few times I bought him jewelry – once it was a bracelet, which he still wears even today, and another time I got him a ring (which he took off just recently). When he turned 30 I bought him a 3 months subscription to a gym (so he would feel fit rather than old). For another birthday I surprised him with a trip to London, and there was also that time that I took him to a dinner + show at the stand up comedy club Boom Chicago.

So this will be the last time that I get to wish him a happy birthday. The last time I buy him a present. Actually it’s already wrapped and sitting on his desk waiting to be unopened, if he ever comes home.  I’m still wondering why I’m doing it. What has he done to deserve a present from me, a card, or even the slightest bit of attention? He sure hasn’t gotten me anything the last couple years for my birthday.

For me, birthdays have always been extremely important. Hell they only happen once a year and I go as far as making a list of who called me and who forgot. When I turned the big 3–0, a birthday I deemed extremely important yet dreaded at the same time, a birthday I wanted the most to not be alone on, and secretly hoped my husband would throw me a surprise party  with all our friends and family, he decided to leave the country. Of-course it was not until later that I discovered that this was exactly while he was in the midst of his passionate love affair.

And this year when I turned 31 and the weight of the world felt like it was resting on my shoulders, again I got nothing.  Not even a card. Because what can he give or say to the woman he was planning to divorce?

Me, I know exactly what he likes, and what will make him happy (even if it’s something small).  From a bottle of Malibu to help him fall asleep, to a pair of night socks to keep his cold feet warm at night, or even just a chocolate filled marzipan bar. I wonder if SHE knows that?

All I can say is that I have the urge to be good to him, regardless of how he treated me. Maybe it’s this need to show him what he’s going to miss when I’m gone. After all, only then will he start to miss those little things about me, who I was, and what I did. And maybe just maybe, he will finally regret the mistakes he made, and appreciate what a good thing he had and lost. I know it will be too late, but the thought that he might one day MISS ME somehow gives me a bit of satisfaction.

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