March was a crazy month.
I turned 50. Which means I’m vintage.
I got my AARP card, which I thought would make me super-sexy in W’s eyes. “She’ll have the Grand Slam,” I imagined me ordering for her at Denny’s and scoring points, as well as a sweet 15 percent discount. She just looked at me weird when I flashed the shiny red card at her.
I had a fun party that W put together with all of my friends and a top-of-the-line party bus that only played 80s music (including that Georgia Satellites song I love) and made stops at a local concert AND Victory Brewing.
No real flannel shirts were harmed in the making of this cake.
W had a custom cake made for me in the shape of a flannel shirt.
I got tons of loot. Notebooks and pens and wine and beer and gift cards for books. All of my favorite things.
I wore my new sneakers. Puma classics, black suede. So sweeeeet.
There’s more. On the night of my birthday, W gave me a bunch of little presents. We aren’t big gift givers, and I knew she was throwing me a birthday bash, so I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe a new necktie, a book, something emblazoned with the Wonder Woman logo.
I misspelled Seattle during the recreation.
She had created a handmade Scrabble board. Each box contained a set of Scrabble tiles. The tiles spelled out: TICKETS, SEATTLE, ALASKA, OLIVIA.
I don’t have a big bucket list. Just a few things I want to do, a few places I want to see. I’ve always wanted to spend a few days in Seattle. Take a cruise to Alaska. And go on an Olivia Cruise.
W had started planning all of this last summer without me suspecting a thing.
At the end of June, we are flying to Seattle for a few days. We’ll be there for Seattle Pride, and we already have reservations for brunch in the Space Needle. In Seattle, we’ll be boarding an Olivia cruise ship and setting sail for Alaska.
“It’s too much,” I said for much of March with a giant grin on my face.
There’s a part of me that still thinks it’s too much. Too expensive. Too extravagant. And that I’m not worthy.
I’ve been trying to silence those voices and be grateful. Grateful for being able to cross things off my bucket list. Grateful for an adventure, something to look forward to. Grateful for a cruise on a luxury liner filled with lesbians.
But mostly grateful for a wife who so carefully planned a special birthday and a trip of a lifetime for me.
It’s hard to be on this side of love. The receiving side.
But I’m trying.
So far, 50 is like a new pair of sneakers. Pretty sweet.