Today has been Husband’s birthday. I ticked the birthday boxes: presents, cake, an attempt to keep a lid on my hostility.
But, if I’m being honest, I don’t think men should have birthdays. Not the sort of thing you have to mark with kindness and party hats. Sound harsh? Maybe. But hear me out.
1) Men are too difficult to buy for.
For Husband’s 40th birthday I bought him an iPod. It broke my bank. Husband broke the iPod. I bought him a Kindle. He never used it. I bought him a watch. He never wore it. Ungrateful much? The year I bought him a paper shredder was a bigger hit. I really don’t understand.
And don’t forget how abysmal he was at buying a gift for me on my last birthday. In case you can’t be bothered to click on the link, a re-cap:
And yet that didn’t stop me from searching all over town yesterday for the perfect presents. Except, and here’s the thing with men, HOW do you find the perfect present?!?! Because, by and large, if there’s something Husband wants he just goes and buys it. He’s just got back from Brazil, after all. That cost him thousands…and I was trying to match his expectations with something under £100? How is that ever NOT going to be a disappointment?
And as men don’t have the same range of generic yet beautiful ephemera that we girlies do it’s even harder.
So, yeah, life would be easier if man gifts didn’t have to happen. And although Husband claims to be happy with his suit carrier (because that’s what he asked for, so that’s what I searched high and low for) I doubt he’d have missed it if I hadn’t bought it. Or he’d have at least just gone and bought one for himself. And I could have saved myself a horrific, panic-inducing afternoon.
2) Every day is like a birthday anyway.
On my birthday I get dinner cooked for me. Just about every day Husband gets his dinner cooked for him. And he gets his pants washed, even though he can’t put them in the right compartment of the laundry bin. And the house cleaned (ish) without him doing his share, the shopping done, the kids wrangled so he can spend his evenings doing his thing and the toilet roll changed for him, just because he can never be bothered to do it. And then, because it’s his birthday, I have to go above and beyond (No, not that! I did the washing up on his behalf after his birthday tea) when actually there’s not enough time to do all the normal things in the day.
So then I get snarky because it’s not fair and that doesn’t make anyone happy. Best to call the whole thing off.
3) Shouldn’t we celebrate them growing UP rather than just growing OLD?
JM Barrie seemed to have the measure of men when he came up with the concept of the Lost Boys, as not growing up doesn’t seem to be a trait exclusive to Peter Pan and his gang.
TinkerBell: No, I’m not the fucking cleaning fairy. Now go and pick up your own shit.
Husband thinks the world revolves around him. The last thing he really needs is a day when it really does. It just inflates his sense of self-importance.
Men should therefore not be allowed a birthday until they demonstrate that they fully accept that birthday treats are just that: a treat, NOT a divine right.
4) They just don’t appreciate cake enough.
A lot of effort goes into making a cake before
I get to lick the bowl clean it’s ready to have candles stuck in it.
Besides which, if there was one thing he would really like for his birthday it would possibly be to have his wife skinny again. And cake doesn’t help with that (especially when I’ve also licked the bowl clean). So an absence of cake would make the world (ok, my thighs, muffin top and bingo wings) a better place.
But then, what would I have to blog about? Plus it’s the big 5-0 for Husband next year. It seems wrong to cancel when there might be a proper party. Although if he decides he’s going away without me like he did for his 40th, or if he fails to adequately celebrate my also big, but not as big, birthday next year then consider the whole thing off.