1:13AM

August 20, 2022

“I dyed my hair black hair grey so that people would think I look like a young 50 year old.”

I was born exactly one month later on September 20. I’ve had this crescendo relationship with my birthday. I used to love them as a kid. I remember not being able to sleep the night before because the next day meant my friends were sleeping over, I would get presents, and eat cake! My parent’s always got me a cake for my birthday and I really appreciate them for it.

For my 21st birthday, I went to Vegas with friends and on one night, I made out with a black woman who was a nurse with three nipples.

But into my late 20’s, I couldn’t stay out as late as I used to, drink as much as I could, and my waist size went from 32-34. I started to get some aches and pains for no apparent reason to the point where my daily goal was to not get hurt.

When I hit 30, it felt a bit strange. For one, I went from “in my 20’s" to “in my 30’s.” If I turned 30 today, then I was a decade older yesterday. I somehow felt “old” for the first time. I even dyed my black hair gray so people would think I looked like a well-aged 40 year old. I started to lose ambition for working and lost my consulting job during the pandemic. My wife got pregnant a few months before I got laid off, and we were worried about staying afloat financially.

Then my daughter was born in a chilly, snowy, November morning. I felt the pleasure of giving unconditional love for the first time. I never thought I could love someone else more than myself. I told my wife this, and she said “how about me?”