It's occurred to me that, with one exception, I have had a romantic interest on my birthday every year since I was 22. Sometimes it's an actual boyfriend, sometimes it's a Person of Interest, with flirting and kissing that falls off a few days or weeks after. Sometimes it's an actual boyfriend who I break up with a few weeks after. I suppose it's sort of like a birthday present from the universe. Not because I need a man in my life to be happy, or even the non-heteronormative version of same. But because I do like flirting. I like having something on that particular shelf of my brain. It's like a particular kind of problem to solve.
And I had one this year, too, someone to tell me he'd be thinking about me on the beach in my cutoffs, someone to complement me, but not too much, someone to say he really wants to meet me. It was nice having messages to check when I got back to the hotel.
But it's not my birthday anymore, and he hasn't made the transition from "wanting to meet" to "making plans."
I suppose I'll write to that guy with the cute photo of him and his dog. But for now, I'm just disappointed.