I read a comment in Dave Barry’s column (I know, I’m a freak) wherein he said the age to stop expecting other people to make a big deal about your birthday is 11. I’m 27 and still want the people in my life to make a big deal about my birthday. Unfortunately, my boyfriend just doesn’t seem to grasp this concept. Thankfully, my friends take up the slack, but I find myself missing the kind of birthdays I had when I dated Chris. I have to say the best birthday I’ve ever had was also the worst and came when I was with him. Aren’t I just the dichotomy girl?

In March of 1996, I was turning 23 and was the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I was utterly in love with a wonderful man. He understood how much birthdays meant to me and made sure my birthday was a big deal, even from 1000 miles away. The weekend of my birthday, he and a good friend of his set off for Killington, Vermont on a ski holiday. I was sorry I wouldn’t get the chance to talk to him on my birthday, but was glad he was getting the chance to do something he loved.

The night before he left, we talked for a few hours. I wished him a safe trip and he promised to call when he returned back to New Jersey. I had no other expectations from him concerning my birthday. He proved his worth though, in spades.

The first thing he did was call the minute he got to Killington. I *had* been worried because he had to drive through blizzard conditions to get to Killington. He called to reassure me and to say goodnight. He wished me a happy birthday again and said I should be receiving *something* from him the next day.

Imagine my surprise when I woke up to a lovely bouquet of flowers! I love flowers and thought it very sweet he made sure I had some from him on my birthday. Then I received a package in that day’s post from him, replete with gifts and cards. I suppose one of the reasons what he did meant so much to me is because he’s not a man prone to romanticism and sappiness. He showed that he is more than capable of such things when he feels strongly.

The evening of my birthday, I went out dancing with some friends from university. When I returned home, slightly drunk and giddy, I found a message from him on my answering machine wishing me a very happy birthday.

Aside from the flowers and the gifts, the cards and messages, the best part of that birthday came the night he returned to New Jersey. He called late that Sunday night. I had spent an emotionally draining day with my grandmother and we talked for a long time about my gran and my fears of losing her. He reassured me, listened to me talk about my gran, and understood better than anyone else ever could. We laughed and loved and talked endlessly. It was that night he said, “if I had one wish, it would be to grow old with you.” I never knew such peace and love. We hung up the phone at 4:30 a.m.

My phone rang at 5:00 a.m. My gran had died. I didn’t call him right away. But when the grieving became too much, he was the first person I went to. And he was the best support I could’ve hoped for.