31 today. I hate celebrating my birthday. Not because I don’t like the concept of getting older, which some people seem to have, but because there’s some kind of expectation that it’s supposed to celebrated and as a consequence I, in some deep corner of my mind think that I maybe it’ll be enjoyable this time, but of course, it can never live up to any of those expectations because all I ever want is to just enjoy the company of people I actually truly have a good time with/can have a good conversation with. As my life looks like today, that pretty much means my husband.
Last year lived up to any and all expectations I could have though. I happened to be at a conference at the same time as my birthday and ended up having a spontaneous evening with a person I had gotten to know while there, had a few glasses of wine and enjoyed a long and easy flowing conversation. It didn’t matter that this was a person I would never meet again, because the conversation itself was all I wanted. In fact, maybe that was the best present I could have asked for. Getting to know someone new and having a surprisingly good evening and just talking. I love a good long conversation, where all pretences are dismissed, and both people are just enjoying each others company. In fact, I would say that I’m a complete addict to them. Especially with new people that meet by chance without any pretences that one has gotten a new bff or even will meet again. The depth of those conversations are the probably the most honest and interesting ones I know off, at least when one finds someone that is in the same mode.
There are only a few friends I have that kind of connection with, and as is natural at the age we’re in, and when living so part apart as we do, it’s a luxury when we do meet. I can’t express how much I miss those conversations.