Kind of an amazing birthday

Decades ago I’d think about turning forty or fifty and it was off in the far flung future. I can remember having this vision of myself as an adult, what I’d look like, what my life would be like. It’s way better than I imagined, to be honest. I figured by now we’d be in some sort of post nuclear war hell scape for one. Or that we’d live in honeycomb pods with our movements and thoughts tracked by an overzealous government. The usual sci-fi projection and fantasy of a bored suburban teen.

Yet here I am, fifty and well, it’s not bad. First of all I’m in good health and the best shape of my life. I credit my health and shape to the gay. It’s the threat of being kicked to the curb by my husband that keeps me going to the gym 6 days a week and weighing my food. And mind you, that threat does not exist in reality — it’s a self imposed threat that I accuse him of harboring. I’ll tell my friends, “Dean left divorce papers for me on the scale.” or “I woke up to find Dean drawing liposuction lines on me this morning” or “Dean circled the 34 on the tape measure and wrote ‘divorce’ next to it.” Dean, of course, has done none of these things. It’s his 12% body fat that silently shames me into good behavior.

For his birthday we went to Providence on Melrose. It’s this fancy pants restaurant that has two Michelin stars and is on all the “best of LA” lists. $630 — for two people! Good god. Okay, but hear me out, first off it was kind of worth it. Dean asked to go there, neither of us having been. When I looked at the menu online it sort of suggested it would be about $135 per person, expensive but doable. Well, we had wine and we ordered this other thing and then… So yeah, that’s the most I’ve ever spent on a meal but I don’t feel ripped off. It was in the top ten best meals of my life. 6 courses, beautiful presentation and perfect service. I was talking about this with some friends of ours and they justified it this way, “none of us have kids so why not?” It’s true. Not having kids, aside from the fact that I’m not a fan, was one of the best decisions of my life!!! Travel anywhere at the drop of a hat. Disposable income for me to dispose of. My poor friend Nancy has a beautiful daughter who burns through her cash and hates her guts! Oof!

For my birthday I had three requests: I asked him to take the day off, I wanted to go on a picnic and I wanted a chocolate cake. He took me to the Hollyhock House for the picnic with food from Squirrel. Afterward he had arranged for a private tour of the house. It’s a Frank Lloyd Wright house overlooking Hollywood and it turns out one of his friends works there and she gave us a peek into the rooms that are not open to the public because they don’t comply with the ADA. After that I had to go to work (BIG EYE ROLL) because they miscommunicated a bunch of dates and screwed over my calendar -as per usual. After work Dean gave me presents! Not a ton of stuff, some socks, some journals and then these super crazy orchids that look like they’re from Venus. Finally we went to dinner at this new place called 5 leaves. I wasn’t expecting anyone to join us (no one hates a party more than me) but my good friend Jillian (who I’ve known half my life) and my other good friend (and current department head) Anna joined us as a surprise. The food and wine were fantastic (not $630, thank Jebus). Around 8 other friends of mine just “happened” to show up at the restaurant. I’d been tricked into a surprise party and was too boozed up to do anything about it. I’d had 3 glasses of wine at that point and I’m a crazy light weight so I had to grin and bear it. Mercifully the restaurant closes at 10 — so none of my more lively friends could drag it out past then. Like Nancy — who owing to the aforementioned daughter, never passes up an opportunity to stay out to all hours getting black-out drunk. Who can blame her? Restaurants closing at 10 is one of my favorite things about LA. Unlike New York, we have an early call time and need to sparkle in the morning.

So all in all, one of the best birthdays I’ve had. This includes those halcyon days of roller skating sleep over parties in the 70’s and early 80’s. It includes the arty ragers thrown in my 20’s with special performance art pieces and thrift store costumes. My 30’s were a total wash out so let’s skip that. My 40’s were good — but I was always so busy I never celebrated much. And now 50. Officially OLD AS HELL and could drop dead at any moment. But at least I still fit into my skinny pants!