Being Kachou

Today February 13, forty-fourth day of the year, day of St. Beatrice, was declared the crappiest day on Earth. Eve of Valentine's Day but also my birthday…

As far as I can remember I have always hated my birthday, I've never had a taste of celebrating it, I think it all started with my tenth birthday, when my mother had organized my birthday - which was indeed the only one she organized - at McDonald’s. We were about ten to binge our Happy Meals while screaming with our toothless jaws full of fried and singing like in an episode of Sponge Bob. That day, I realized that I was turning 10, which means another decade - THE decade - one that every kid dreams of. The consecration the first double-digit age, one that makes us feel that we pass an exam. Except for me, my tenth birthday was the representation of old age, I know you'll say that 10 is nothing, we are still babies at that age, we are not responsible, our mothers choose our clothes in the morning for us otherwise we would wear costumes or no clothes, we do not eat vegetables, these green and crunchy things are actually demons who want to invade our bodies so that we become healthier, and more of it at 10 we dumb. During this birthday, I realized that life flies so quickly that I had a few dozen years to be happy.

This was the only birthday that I actually celebrated, of course there are the pre-thirties ages called "steps" like 16 years where you become a repellent pimply teenager, you think only about boys or girls, you realize that our parents are tacky and have a sex life, but above all you are as dumb as you were at 10. Then comes 18 where you can go clubbing, smoking and drinking alcohol legally (although in France we are beginning to drink at 10) or you can also kiss and fuck everyone you want. Then 20, which is basically like our 18. And finally the final stage of pre-thirties 25 years where you are a "real adult" you have responsibilities, a job and a stable love life.

Apart from these steps, I never had any aspiration or desire to celebrate my birthdays. I will celebrate my eightieth birthday saying "Damn! Yes, I did it, I'm really old and I'm still alive" and at that age, I would have done all the things I wanted to and I would be happy.... In the meantime we’re always on February 13 and my sadness is growing minute by minute.

To escape my approaching wrinkles, I decided to go on vacation alone because yes I'm kind of a modern-day adventurer, a rebel. You really have to be a rebel to go to Jamaica in an all-inclusive! Have you ever tried to put sunscreen on the back by yourself? Impossible you will say? Being a true rebel, nothing scares me not even a simple index 40 on a body area reachable only by contortionists Shaolin monks.

Here I am ready to go to Jamaica, coconut, sun, turquoise water and alcohol, a perfect escape for this celebration that sent me the picture to my incompleteness. Only there was a "hiccup" because yes there is always something wrong, we are on February 13, which was not even a Friday, the last Friday, February 13 was in 2009 It's my birthday day, which was officially declared International rubbish day.

I’m going to the airport. I arrive at the registration desk, with my little suitcase which contained mostly swimwear and some beach dresses, but my enthusiasm was quickly cut off by the cold ground hostess - bitch - who told me with a grin that my flight was overbooked and that unfortunately I was overbooked, her face rapidly changed when she saw my birth date on my passport, she realized the sweet irony of the situation. This was the first blow.

The airline had offered me another flight the next day at the same time with a beautiful compensation of $ 1,000, but damn it's my birthday! Fuck! How to refuse money from a company that has fragmented my non celebration of this day that appears only once in the year to nothing? My birthday is not as rarely as a lunar eclipse in Finland in summer but just as dangerous as the Icelandic volcano Grimsvotn that disrupted European air traffic for weeks. I’m going back home by taxi, so I do not show my pain represented by wet, puffy and red eyes to the commuters.

On my way I’m sending a text my "date" every adventurer needs to share intimate moments with a man - preferably lumberjack - especially at a moment so desperately sad sex turns out to be a good treatment, but unfortunately no response from him, my sadness was growing.

I didn’t want I this stage to admit that my birthday was just a big charade.

After arriving home I hurry to open the bottle of white wine, it was not yet noon, but I know that alcohol helps to forget - as long as I don’t forget to get up the next day to take my flight - I did not care to be judged by my cat - Maurice. I opened a Burgundy white wine, it is one of the few French wines to satisfy my palate in this country - Canada country of cheap wine vinegar.

I was expecting my second punch, I knew it was going to fall but when? That is the question. It happened after my second drink my phone vibrated, I was sober enough to type my password on my phone - but still not drunk enough to forget my premonition this morning. The response of my date was short, effective and heartbreaking "I am working today and tonight I am babysitting my niece and nephew." Tears flow out of my tiny red eyes, my anger rises, a hard reality to swallow - caused by unavailability - like a desire to be down on my the knees to put my hands up and scream "why????"- What the fuck it is my birthday! Fuck!

What is happening to me? What have I done to deserve this? Damn but it's my fucking birthday!

I decided to finish this bottle of wine, to celebrate the ridicule of how February 13, my birthday,  is turning into a real nightmare - also known as the Galentine’s Day where woman celebrate woman in rebellion against this heresy that Valentine's Day is.

As if this pamphlet that lists my failures, my birthday was only created for me to fail having an actual "Happy Birthday" even Galentines are entitled to have their the cake with candles on top.

So I guess I just have to wish myself a Happy Galentine’s Day, at least this will be happier than my birthday

Damn but it's my fucking birthday!