Travels with Grumpus

When I first met Grumpus, it was about a week and a half before his 31st birthday. I guess I must have thought he was cute because I left him a voicemail - or maybe a text message - right around midnight, which turned out to be his first birthday greeting. I guess he thought I was cute too because he’d asked me to be his birthday dinner date about a week before. After dinner we headed over to a joint birthday party on someone’s apartment rooftop, and I drank too much red wine too fast and ended up throwing up in the flower pots. Grumpus - or Mickey, as I knew him then - sweetly left his party and took me home in a cab. That might have been our first date.

The year after, we’d been a couple for several months when December rolled around. He’d been working in his firm’s DC office for several weeks, and planned to come back to New York for the weekend to celebrate his birthday. Since he was supposed to take an early evening flight back to New York, I assembled several friends to surprise him in his apartment and a larger party to meet for drinks at a nice joint across the street. When he called to say he was taking an earlier flight and would be back at his place by 5, I panicked and tried to stall. “Don’t you miss me?” he said. “Uh yeah, but I’m kinda busy,” I said, truthfully enough, decorating your apartment, I added under my breath, but dammit, your friends are still at work and you’re spoiling the surprise. Anyway, being the resourceful sort, the friends just decided to knock on the door when the time came, and Grumpus - still known to me as Mickey in those days - was properly, and happily, surprised.

The year after that, we thought we’d try something special, and made reservations at this fancy New York restaurant about a month and a half before the big day. As it turns out, Mickey and I took a nice little trip upstate the weekend before, and I came back down with a diamond ring on my finger. We spent dinner calling friends and family, and I have absolutely no recollection of what we ate.

The next year we had moved to Hong Kong with a brief detour in the Philippines to become Mr. and Mrs. Grumpus. I tried to be a good little wife, and decorated our first apartment with tea lights and other season-appropriate decorations. I think I even managed to cook a decent meal. And I also think I had a Santa hat on when I sang him Happy Birthday.

The next year we went traditional again, and decided to have a quiet dinner in a nice restaurant. I think it may have been this one. We wanted to go someplace else, but he ended up working late that night. As far as birthdays go it was pretty quiet.

Last year was slightly more festive. We got a bunch of friends together for drinks at this place and ended up so completely liquored up that we ended up here at 2 a.m., eating pancakes and sausages chased down by milkshakes. Despite that indulgence, Grumpus noted that his age was finally greater than his waistline, and vowed to keep it that way.

So this year we started out with a little happy birthday song at midnight. I wish I could say I started that tradition but truth be told, Grumpus is the thoughtful, celebration-minded one in this couple, and he’s done that charming little candle-in-a-small-cake thing for my birthday for a couple of years. The day of his birthday he was hijacked by work again, so we declared the weekend his birthday weekend. We managed to get a small group of people together for drinks the next day and have a respectable celebration.

It sort of amazes me that we’ve spent 6 birthdays together, and that I remember something about every single one of them. My faithful readers know that he’s crazy, and I adore him, and that I’ve never had more fun than when we’re together. I know things will change in the coming years and that one day there’ll be children, mortgages and other random accumulations, and we’ll be less footloose and fancy free. But whatever. I’m looking forward to the years ahead, and whatever they bring, and each and every birthday with my crabby, cantankerous, dearly cherished Grumpus.