Last night ended like any good birthday should--almost, but not quite, throwing up. Birthdays have always been occasions for reflection for me (let's face it, it doesn't take much to make me contemplate), but once the party started there was no moment for that. Maybe that's why we have birthday parties--so we can avoid thinking about getting older, at least for a little while.

Lots of friends showed up, which was great. I was thrilled that people showed up. But the rest of the day itself wore on me. Having a birthday shortly before Valentine's sucks for a couple of reasons--it means some people are always going to be otherwise occupied when you get around to celebrating, but worse yet it juxtaposes getting a year older and being 100% single in a stark way. My mind couldn't help but dwell on the fact that I'm spending an increasing number of "occasions" (New Years, birthdays, Christmases, etc.) alone--not completely alone, mind you, but alone in that way. I'd be lying if I said it's not getting harder and harder.