Dear friends, it's that time of year again when my mass email and/or a Facebook notification reminds you that the exact same calendar date when my birth occurred many years ago is almost upon us again this year. As you all well know, we've all been socially contracted by the coincidence of birth into accepting a custom peculiar to our culture that deems this annual on-paper recurrence on the Gregorian calendar an event worthy of celebration with some kind of gathering or other. So please allow me to remind you of your duty to fulfill this social obligation this coming Thursday. That's not technically my birthday, because my birthday falls on a Monday this year, so we'll in fact be celebrating my birthday three days later. Some of you may be thinking "why not celebrate two days before on a Saturday?" but unfortunately I already have another social obligation to attend a wedding ceremony where a lot of money will be spent on a lavish party to celebrate two people promising a government official that they will spend the rest of their lives together, unless of course they change their minds and decide to divorce later on. I had to buy a tuxedo just for those kinds of obligations, and would like to get my money's worth, so I should really attend that wedding. You may also be wondering why we're doing this on a Thursday instead of a Friday, but that's because I'm playing tennis Saturday morning and don't want to be hungover. Also, I couldn't be bothered throwing a real party at my place because that means my house getting trashed and either me spending a fortune on alcohol or depending on you guys to bring alcohol, in which case everyone will just bring some beers and hit the hard liquor, and that of course means we'll be out of drinks before midnight, so no thanks. Thursday it is then!
We'll be meeting at L'Exorbitante restaurant at 8 pm. As you can tell from the fancy French name, L'Exorbitante will be expensive, so for those with solvency issues, I suggest you abstain from starters, stick to a non-red meat main like chicken or pasta, and forget about wine and dessert. If people ask why you're not eating much, just say you're not too hungry. Don't say you're broke, because that's an instant bummer for everyone at the table, and all you'll get is awkward silence and a sudden loss of eye contact from those around you. Stick to tried and true socially acceptable ways to say you're broke, like "I had a late lunch" or "I just don't have much of an appetite". We'll all know what you're really saying without having to go through the discomfort of addressing it openly. For some of you broke-ass buddies for whom any kind of eating at all will be out of the question due to lack of money, I will expect the usual "I'll come after dinner for a drink". That's fine, we all do that at some point, just say you had to work late or something came-up, I will accept either excuse. Others among you will just reply to this email with a "Happy Birthday! I'll try to make it!" and then write another email the day after my birthday dinner saying you or your dog or your girlfriend was sick and therefore couldn't make it. I'm sure most of you would like to opt for that old trick, but I'm not going to let you, because this is where I say "Please let me know if you are attending or not because I'm making a reservation and need to know exact numbers". Bam. I just played the RSVP card. So you're going to have to work on coming up with creative, semi-credible excuses if you think you're expecting to get off the hook that easily. You better remember those excuses too so you don't just give me a confused squint when I bump into you a month later and say "I hope your dog is feeling better!" I just want to save you the embarrassment, that's all. Also, I actually do keep track of whose uncles and aunts have died so far, so you better not bring any of them back from the dead. I will not accept any Excuse Zombies.
That being said, I will accept all fabricated excuses to not have to come, without question, as long as they remain somewhat credible since I know that I too will welcome the opportunity to invent some kind of lie to not have to attend some of your inevitable upcoming birthday dinners, either because I'm broke or because I can't be bothered. I also understand that most of you are either married or pretty much partnered up for life, as am I, so the thrilling allure of going out and meeting someone attractive with whom you could strike up an engrossing conversation that will effortlessly segue into flirting and the distinct possibility of amazing new-sexy-person sex, and possibly even new love... is essentially non-existent. That's not going to happen at a birthday dinner. We're not in our twenties anymore. Instead we will all pretty much be sitting beside our same old significant others, perhaps making do with secretly checking out each others' partners with furtive glances as we engage in inane forced conversations with people we barely know whose only thing in common is that they know the person whose birthday it is, viz. me. We will of course be waiting for the alcohol to kick in so we can loosen up and relax a bit, even though with each drink we order we'll be painfully aware of the accumulating bill that awaits us at the end of the night. But I have no need to remind you that even as we get a few drinks in and start feeling like we might be having fun, there will, as always, inevitably arise in the back of each of our minds the lingering worry of obligations, money, your job, health, and the fact that you have to leave early to get enough sleep for work the next day, all of which will be tinged with a faint melancholy unease of wasted youth, and for some of us maybe even a despairing general feeling of regret for what might've been.
I assume most of you will come fashionably late, but as you know, if you come too late, you may not have any seating options other than what's available, which means you may end up spending the birthday dinner talking to someone you don't care to talk to, generally trying to muddle through some awkward and painful small talk about what you do for a living and how you came to know me. On the other hand if you come too early, there's a chance that you may feel obligated out of courtesy or pity to sit next to a couple or person who is already there at an empty table, even though you otherwise wouldn't choose to sit next to them. Even worse would be you being the first person there, as that would mean you are a loser/losers who might actually be looking forward to this birthday dinner, and/or had nowhere better to be and nothing better to do beforehand. So pick your time well.
I'm aware that some of you will drink wine and others won't, so will the wine drinkers please divide the wine bill separately. Please beware of waiters pouring wine for you, as they will try and go through as many bottles as possible. Once the wine is in your glass, I'm afraid you'll be expected to chip in for the wine bill. To be on the safe side, place your hand over your wine glass in case you're distracted in a conversation or playing Words With Friends on your iPhone to avoid painful human interaction while the waiter's pouring wine. The waiters love to pounce on the distracted. That being said, at the end of the dinner about a fifth of the wine will be sitting around in half drunk glasses. This is inevitable. Just accept the waste and pay up without complaining about those who didn't drink their wine.
During dinner we will all of course want to take photos of ourselves to post up on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. May I suggest that photos intended for Facebook be taken without it being announced that a photo's about to be taken. A dinner party looks fun when everyone's engrossed in conversation and having fun without being aware of photos being taken. If everyone's sitting around a table smiling at a camera it looks like a photo being taken is the most interesting thing going on at the dinner party, which is sad. I accept that photos taken for Twitter will likely be used for sarcastic purposes, but try to do that without insulting people there, including me. If you don't want to be at my birthday, then just do what everyone else does and pretend like you do, okay? I promise to do the same for you.
Naturally at some point after the mains, people will want to switch seats to sit with those who don't bore them as much. I just want to say please don't let this turn into the inevitable boys sitting all together talking about cars, gadgets, prices of things, and football, and girls sitting on the other side talking about... whatever girls talk about, I don't know. I know this happens every time anyway, but let's just at least try and keep boys and girls kind of mixed.
Also, in case anyone's considering buying a big elaborate cake, don't bother. Just pick a dessert off the menu and stick a candle in it. I'll act delighted. Contrary to what you may be thinking, a sparkler is NOT a welcome bonus as that will mean I'll have to embellish the delight act, which, frankly, I can't be bothered to do, especially considering I know that what comes next is the bill.
You will know the "fun" is over when your bill arrives... although, theoretically, we may know the fun was over way before that, if it ever was there to begin with. Nevertheless, reach calmly into your wallets while you and your partners whisper and point at items on the bill. Everyone has to pay for whatever they had or sort their respective bills out with the waiter. That being said, I'm resigned to accept that I'll still be stuck with a hefty amount of the bill that somehow went unpaid, either because the restaurant is stiffing us or because you overlooked a couple of items. I know, it sucks, but hey, I dragged you to this thing so I accept that ultimately I'm responsible for it. Plus that means my conscience is clear about leaving a few beers unpaid at all your upcoming birthday dinners. Of course we could alternatively split the whole bill evenly, but who are we kidding, that's just going to lead to a 45 minute all-table series of arguments about who had what and why they should be expected to pay for so-and-so when they didn't have any so-and-so. So let's just stick to the original plan.
This email ran a little longer than expected, but I really like to map things out and consider all angles beforehand so that the dinner is at least bearable, and the only thing we have to worry about (other than how much it's going to cost each and every one of us) is having a good time.
So see you Thursday. It's going to be "fun"!
P.S. I'm considering whether we should all wear ironic birthday hats. Thoughts?
We'll be meeting at L'Exorbitante restaurant at 8 pm. As you can tell from the fancy French name, L'Exorbitante will be expensive, so for those with solvency issues, I suggest you abstain from starters, stick to a non-red meat main like chicken or pasta, and forget about wine and dessert. If people ask why you're not eating much, just say you're not too hungry. Don't say you're broke, because that's an instant bummer for everyone at the table, and all you'll get is awkward silence and a sudden loss of eye contact from those around you. Stick to tried and true socially acceptable ways to say you're broke, like "I had a late lunch" or "I just don't have much of an appetite". We'll all know what you're really saying without having to go through the discomfort of addressing it openly. For some of you broke-ass buddies for whom any kind of eating at all will be out of the question due to lack of money, I will expect the usual "I'll come after dinner for a drink". That's fine, we all do that at some point, just say you had to work late or something came-up, I will accept either excuse. Others among you will just reply to this email with a "Happy Birthday! I'll try to make it!" and then write another email the day after my birthday dinner saying you or your dog or your girlfriend was sick and therefore couldn't make it. I'm sure most of you would like to opt for that old trick, but I'm not going to let you, because this is where I say "Please let me know if you are attending or not because I'm making a reservation and need to know exact numbers". Bam. I just played the RSVP card. So you're going to have to work on coming up with creative, semi-credible excuses if you think you're expecting to get off the hook that easily. You better remember those excuses too so you don't just give me a confused squint when I bump into you a month later and say "I hope your dog is feeling better!" I just want to save you the embarrassment, that's all. Also, I actually do keep track of whose uncles and aunts have died so far, so you better not bring any of them back from the dead. I will not accept any Excuse Zombies.
That being said, I will accept all fabricated excuses to not have to come, without question, as long as they remain somewhat credible since I know that I too will welcome the opportunity to invent some kind of lie to not have to attend some of your inevitable upcoming birthday dinners, either because I'm broke or because I can't be bothered. I also understand that most of you are either married or pretty much partnered up for life, as am I, so the thrilling allure of going out and meeting someone attractive with whom you could strike up an engrossing conversation that will effortlessly segue into flirting and the distinct possibility of amazing new-sexy-person sex, and possibly even new love... is essentially non-existent. That's not going to happen at a birthday dinner. We're not in our twenties anymore. Instead we will all pretty much be sitting beside our same old significant others, perhaps making do with secretly checking out each others' partners with furtive glances as we engage in inane forced conversations with people we barely know whose only thing in common is that they know the person whose birthday it is, viz. me. We will of course be waiting for the alcohol to kick in so we can loosen up and relax a bit, even though with each drink we order we'll be painfully aware of the accumulating bill that awaits us at the end of the night. But I have no need to remind you that even as we get a few drinks in and start feeling like we might be having fun, there will, as always, inevitably arise in the back of each of our minds the lingering worry of obligations, money, your job, health, and the fact that you have to leave early to get enough sleep for work the next day, all of which will be tinged with a faint melancholy unease of wasted youth, and for some of us maybe even a despairing general feeling of regret for what might've been.
I assume most of you will come fashionably late, but as you know, if you come too late, you may not have any seating options other than what's available, which means you may end up spending the birthday dinner talking to someone you don't care to talk to, generally trying to muddle through some awkward and painful small talk about what you do for a living and how you came to know me. On the other hand if you come too early, there's a chance that you may feel obligated out of courtesy or pity to sit next to a couple or person who is already there at an empty table, even though you otherwise wouldn't choose to sit next to them. Even worse would be you being the first person there, as that would mean you are a loser/losers who might actually be looking forward to this birthday dinner, and/or had nowhere better to be and nothing better to do beforehand. So pick your time well.
I'm aware that some of you will drink wine and others won't, so will the wine drinkers please divide the wine bill separately. Please beware of waiters pouring wine for you, as they will try and go through as many bottles as possible. Once the wine is in your glass, I'm afraid you'll be expected to chip in for the wine bill. To be on the safe side, place your hand over your wine glass in case you're distracted in a conversation or playing Words With Friends on your iPhone to avoid painful human interaction while the waiter's pouring wine. The waiters love to pounce on the distracted. That being said, at the end of the dinner about a fifth of the wine will be sitting around in half drunk glasses. This is inevitable. Just accept the waste and pay up without complaining about those who didn't drink their wine.
During dinner we will all of course want to take photos of ourselves to post up on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. May I suggest that photos intended for Facebook be taken without it being announced that a photo's about to be taken. A dinner party looks fun when everyone's engrossed in conversation and having fun without being aware of photos being taken. If everyone's sitting around a table smiling at a camera it looks like a photo being taken is the most interesting thing going on at the dinner party, which is sad. I accept that photos taken for Twitter will likely be used for sarcastic purposes, but try to do that without insulting people there, including me. If you don't want to be at my birthday, then just do what everyone else does and pretend like you do, okay? I promise to do the same for you.
Naturally at some point after the mains, people will want to switch seats to sit with those who don't bore them as much. I just want to say please don't let this turn into the inevitable boys sitting all together talking about cars, gadgets, prices of things, and football, and girls sitting on the other side talking about... whatever girls talk about, I don't know. I know this happens every time anyway, but let's just at least try and keep boys and girls kind of mixed.
Also, in case anyone's considering buying a big elaborate cake, don't bother. Just pick a dessert off the menu and stick a candle in it. I'll act delighted. Contrary to what you may be thinking, a sparkler is NOT a welcome bonus as that will mean I'll have to embellish the delight act, which, frankly, I can't be bothered to do, especially considering I know that what comes next is the bill.
You will know the "fun" is over when your bill arrives... although, theoretically, we may know the fun was over way before that, if it ever was there to begin with. Nevertheless, reach calmly into your wallets while you and your partners whisper and point at items on the bill. Everyone has to pay for whatever they had or sort their respective bills out with the waiter. That being said, I'm resigned to accept that I'll still be stuck with a hefty amount of the bill that somehow went unpaid, either because the restaurant is stiffing us or because you overlooked a couple of items. I know, it sucks, but hey, I dragged you to this thing so I accept that ultimately I'm responsible for it. Plus that means my conscience is clear about leaving a few beers unpaid at all your upcoming birthday dinners. Of course we could alternatively split the whole bill evenly, but who are we kidding, that's just going to lead to a 45 minute all-table series of arguments about who had what and why they should be expected to pay for so-and-so when they didn't have any so-and-so. So let's just stick to the original plan.
This email ran a little longer than expected, but I really like to map things out and consider all angles beforehand so that the dinner is at least bearable, and the only thing we have to worry about (other than how much it's going to cost each and every one of us) is having a good time.
So see you Thursday. It's going to be "fun"!
P.S. I'm considering whether we should all wear ironic birthday hats. Thoughts?
