I have a contentious relationship with my birthday. When I was 18 my parents had a party for me, it was a rather grown-up affair with family, aunts and uncles, etc and a pretty cake that my Mum made for me. It was fun but not really what most 18 year old’s would consider fun. After that birthdays were just something that happened, there might be dinner out or a drinks with friends but it was no big deal. As I got older it seemed to get less important to those in my life and more important to me as it with each passing year it indicted the passing of time that I would never get back. During most of my early 30’s my birthday meant a take-away because I refused to cook and some money put into my bank account for me to buy myself a present because he didn’t have time. Hatred for my birthday grew to such a point that once I got divorced I rarely told people it was my birthday, in fact I would actively hide it from people, often refusing to tell people when it was or just glossing over the question of someone asked me. When I met @domsigns I eventually confided in him my birthday hatred and asked him not to tell people when it was or wish me happy birthday on-line where people would join in. He reluctantly agreed at first but the year after he moved here it was my 40th birthday and he declared that things were going to change.
Much to my horror he started planning a party and not just any party but a big party in a Fet club that he rented for the occasion. Somewhere inside me I just wanted it all to go away. I didn’t want to be 40 and I certainly didn’t want to have to celebrate the fact I was 40. Despite my discomfort, which I made perfectly clear, he pressed. Ordering me a cake that was covered in my favourite sweeties (Dolly Mixtures) and sending out invites to all and sundry all the while reassuring me that it was time I had a party and learnt to love my birthday.
To cut a long story short it was an amazing evening shared with wonderful friends who enjoyed cake and kink to its maximum. I won’t say it was all easy, there were moments when I had to work at suppressing my ‘I hate my birthday’ feelings which had become so deeply ingrained in me that despite the fact I was having a good time threatened to overwhelm my lizard brain but then he chained me to the St Andrews cross and gave me the best birthday present ever, a thoroughly good beating.
My 40th birthday was a turning point for me in so many ways but not the least of which is that it finally laid to rest some of those horrible ghosts of birthday pasts as well as gifting me some of the best bruises ever.
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