A Personal Taste of Nelson de Gouveia


Going Offline - Day 26: Sorry I forgot your birthday...

in Life by

Remember the days when you knew the birthday of your closest relatives and friends based solely on your relationship and proximity with them?

Like, your actual relatives and friends, not Facebook followers?

For years I spent wishing people "Merry Christmas" on friends' Facebook walls as a constant parody of the blasé attitude people have towards the constant childhood need to be recognised as the lucky sperm that made it, thankfully not wiped away with a tissue or swallowed, which put me in a position not to offend anybody by relying on the social networks to remember those incredible moments in OTHER PEOPLE'S LIVES.

But I still do remember before we even had portable telephones in our pockets the important ones, the days we truly wished each other well on the day we realise we survived another year on this planet.

My mom's, for example, I remember constantly growing up as she received phonecalls from people in the community, which to me was akin to a personal status update. Or my very very FIRST girlfriend's just cos from age 8 to 12 I really liked her, to the lady that broke my heart as it soon before her 21st we got together.

I remember THOSE birthdays, but for the life of me I can't recall anybody else's, even my nephews (sorry boys and girl, I'm coming back to rectify that).

So today is both my sister-in-law's and my housemate's birthday, which I remember from last year where I quipped about it over the kitchen table and he went, "Oh yeah?" and returned to his conversation with a hot girl on Facebook chat, but as per usual I'd forgotten a card.

Or should I leave a card for a male housemate to a male housemate? Is that really appropriate to actually go out into a shop and pick up a birthday card for a male? Not a best friend, but a man sharing my house with me, that is a friend and a comedy colleague.

To me, I would say I'd have the same relationship as if I sent him a text message with an "x" at the end of it, and thankfully that is not what I do.

Nor would I do it...for he shall look at me like I've been painting "I love ####" all over my chalkboard with the door closed while listening to Celine Dion.

Celine specifically cos they're both Canadian.

No, his day will be spent getting lurid messages from friends and colleagues and I'll probably just come home with a few beers.

So, Merry Christmas from me. 😛

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