I’ve had a streak of bad birthdays. It all started on March 20, 2018, my 21st birthday. The birthday of all birthdays ended up being one of the worst birthdays I ever experienced.
It was a Tuesday. I spent most of the day doing my normal Tuesday things: working and going to my classes. I was excited to get home to my then boyfriend at the time. The thought was to go to a nice dinner and keep it lowkey since it was a Tuesday. When I got home, I was greeted to a basket of gifts, some from my parents and family, some from my boyfriend. I thought the night was starting off strong.
This allusion was all shattered when I got a message from my boyfriend letting me know he would be home late that night because his work buddies invited him out for drinks, but promised we would still go out. Lo and behold, he comes home buzzed from drinks with his buddies. Needless to say, I was crushed. I had wanted so badly to go out and legally order my first beer.
I had guilted him into going to a small bar by our house so that I could at least just order a beer. He begrudgingly got in the car and drove us the five minutes to the bar, complaining the whole way. I ordered a blue moon and began crying. Imagine, freshly 21, crying at the bar. I was so embarrassed I left before we paid the tab and sat in the parking garage, crying for the next 20 minutes.
Later that night, more fighting ensued and I ended up packing my car (for the umpteenth time) and leaving the house. I stayed at a friend’s apartment that night and through the weekend. And so it began, my string of bad birthdays.
My 22nd birthday wasn’t as bad. It was a weird time in my life. Six months before, I finally left the guy that ruined my 21st and was in the thick of figuring out who I was and who I wanted to be. I was working as a substitute teacher by day and a server by the rest of the time I had free. I was starting a relationship with a delivery driver at the restaurant I worked at. Granted, wasn’t my best decision, but I needed to work through my own stuff. The guy ended up taking me to the casino to celebrate my birthday. Little did I know, a few months later I would be starting my life as a big girl in Chicago.
My 23rd birthday was set to be great! I was having friends come in from out of town and had dinner reservations. Lo and behold, a few weeks before, the entire world shut down. I was lost and had no idea what I was going to do. Luckily, I had made the move to Chicago and had a fabulous roommate who threw me our own little “party”. One of her friends came over and we hung out all night. This was also the first time I ever did acid.
My 24th was all set to be great. I had my boyfriend, friends from Chicago and Indianapolis friends all meeting together for the first time. We rented a “Cabin on a Lake” in Kentucky, which turned into a “cabin on a retention pond that was empty since it was early spring”. As disappointing as the cabin was, I was more disappointed in my friends and the fact that they had an opposing objective for our trip. I wanted to hike and be outside and then come back and get in a hot tub. Part of our group begrudgingly went on a hike that I really enjoyed. The other part decided to do their own thing, which was also disappointing. We came back and tried to play games but ended up drinking too much to understand any rules. After that trip, I never heard from those “friends” again.
From then on, my birthdays have gotten better. For 25, I set up a bottomless brunch with friends, a dinner with my bestie and finally ended up at a LGBTQ rave. I did happen to drink too much that night and threw up all over my bedroom floor. My first moments of 25 were spent cleaning up my own puke.
26 was easy. I was still recovering from a surgery that I had a month earlier and was finally starting to feel somewhat normal. We had a dinner with my parents and best friend and boyfriend at an amazing Italian restaurant, Alla Vita.
And that brings us to 27. I’m writing this post from the hospital waiting room, while my grandpa is just coming out of surgery. After a cancer scare about 8 years ago, his cancer came back in the form of a tumor on his ureter and the surgery was scheduled for today. We just got word from the doctor that everything went well and he is on the road to recovery.
Honestly, this birthday is the best one I’ve had in 6 years. Even though this year is different, I’m extremely grateful that my grandpa is in good health now and on the road to recovery. I’m thankful for all of the people in my life and ready to celebrate with a dinner at Wagyu House, a high end hot pot spot in South Loop.
As an update, I have finally broken my streak of bad birthdays.
Much love!
Christi Raichle 