So you leave a message and they don’t call you back.
After months and months of unanswered messages you finally get the hint … you get the He’s-Just-Not-That-Into-You vibe. But it’s not your dude. It’s your long-time friend. The one that knew you when you were obsessed with Enrique Iglesias and the one who helped you get dressed on your wedding day.
You think it’s o.k. … they’re busy, they have a life outside the home. You get it. You don’t want to be a Single White Female stalker friend, so your calling frequency lessens.
Then her birthday comes up. You don’t leave her an artificial Happy Birthday message on Facebook along with 300 other friends. You don’t text her “Happy Bday”, because she deserves all the letters to be spelled out in that phrase. You don’t send an email, because she’s better than a type-written message sent in cyberspace. She’s worth real space. So you actually call to talk to her.
You have her number programmed in your cell phone, so all you do is scroll down the list and press send. The phone does it for you. No need to hand dial.
It rings, but you get the machine. So you leave a heartfelt message.
It’s been so long since you spoke that she changed her outgoing message. It’s no longer her voice, but the standard-robotic-chick-answering machine voice.
You wait for the beep.
You leave a heartfelt message about how you know you haven’t talked in a while, but that you often think of her and miss your friendship. You hope she is doing well at work and with her family. You hope that she has a fantastic night with her new awesome fiance and you’re excited that she’s celebrating with a dude that loves and appreciates her. You’re glad that her birthday wish came early and hope that she had a blast in whatever she did that day. You hope to see her soon and wish her well at work, at school, and with her dude.
You think maybe she’ll call you back. At least she’ll send you an email letting you know that she got your message.
But after a couple of days you don’t hear from her. You think, she must be on vacation. Probably whisked away to Paris in a romantic week to celebrate her birthday. You hope she brings you some cheese.
But no … no trip to Europe. She’s been at home, probably busy with work, with her dissertation, and with her dude.
Sigh … it’s happened. She broke up with me and I didn’t even know it.
This has happened to me before. Once my close friends get girlfriends or boyfriends I usually get dumped. No more chick-flick dates to see Nicholas Sparks‘s books that have become movies, and no more phone calls just to say hi.
So that was it … until I got the phone call.
Another friend had called me. She wanted to say hi and see how I was doing and we chatted up a bit. And then she laughed.
“Oh yeah … I also got your message the other day. But it wasn’t my birthday. My birthday is not until October. And I didn’t get engaged.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You left me a really nice happy birthday message on my answering machine, but it wasn’t my birthday.”
Apparently I have to look more closely when scrolling down my cell phone contact list.
So in honor of my friend I wanted to wish her a Happy Belated Birthday. Not actually belated because I remembered and called her and left her a great message, but yes belated because I called the wrong person.