Twenty years ago to this very day, I was born and I ROSE FROM THE ASHES LIKE A PHOENIX DEMON INTENT ON CONQUERING THE WORLD.
Sorry. That’s the fun version. The real version is that I was born in the middle of a blizzard and everyone was cold and it took about four months for me to smile at my parents. I think they’ve always held a grudge.
All throughout middle and high school, there were three other guys in my grade that had the same birthday as me. And I always felt like it was a competition. None of us were friends, specifically. There was Guy 1, who was a major jock and kind of an asshole; Guy 2, who was really smart and a huge Harry Potter nerd and we probably could have been friends if not for the reason that we just weren’t; and Guy 3, who was at the forefront of the stoner clique. Now, we all knew each other, and I know we were all aware of this quadruple birthday fiasco we had going on. And it wasn’t that big a school. Guy 1 was on the football team and was friends with my brother. Guy 2 had been the object of Tara’s discreet affection since elementary school. Guy 3 had dated my friend Kathryn at one point. We all knew each other. We had exchanged words. But we weren’t friends. We never so much as delivered a “happy birthday” on each other’s Facebook walls. Because this was a competition only one could win.
I haven’t seen any of those guys in two years. Well, except for Guy 1, but that was just a quick giving of the finger when he cut me off in the Wendy’s parking lot.
So now I just share my birthday with Abe Lincoln. And Jesse Spencer. Whoo boy. *fans self*