In my day, when someone had a birthday, you got them some Geoffrey Bucks and called it a day. Maybe your Grandma left you a song on your answering machine. Nowadays, birthdays have taken on a brownie point system and regurgitation of social media posts.
Posting its your birthday is like saying happy birthday to yourself. To be fair, some people always have said happy birthdays themselves. Some little pricks used to bring in Dunkin Donuts munchkins to walk around the school to hand out to the other teachers. Fools, whole lot of them. Pocket the munchkins for you and your friends for lunch. But no, you had to parade around the entire school with your little ribbon so every teacher and every grade could say happy birthday to you. Instagram stories have since replaced munchkins. And instead of third graders, it’s grown men and women.
Your friend posts a story of you for your birthday, fine, I can live with that. But this trend of reposting every single story of someone saying Happy Birthday to you is depraved. You’re siphoning other peoples’ stories to create your own mega “look how many people tell me happy birthday” story. The captions are ruthlessly cheesy. Don’t even get me started on the one friend who posts seven times in a row with one word on each picture, “Happy…Birthday…Babe…Let’s…Get…Fucking…Wasted!”
But you have to play along. Because if you don’t, it’s a whole thing. Nobody wants a whole thing. If somebody posted a story for your birthday you’ll be excommunicated for not returning the favor.
Not that it matters but I have to defeat those mega stories whenever they pop up on my feed. 30 of those little dots on top of the screen and I tap tap tap real quick without stopping to check a single tribute. It shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. It’ll never stop unless we all agree to pick a year to make it end. Or we all grow up, but that doesn’t seem too promising.
I’m not saying handwrite a hallmark card, I’m not a nutcase. All I’m saying is, there’s nothing wrong with a simple text. You don’t have to dress it up with a memory or some quip, just “happy birthday.” People have been doing it for centuries, it’ll suffice. That’s it, nothing more nothing less. Unless of course you find Geoffrey Bucks, then always send the Geoffrey Bucks.
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