The Bulldog turned 50 yesterday. Fifty was always a HUGE milestone to him. He talked about it a lot when we were hanging out. We haven’t communicated in two years. Still, I’ve thought about him nearly every day since we last spoke…since he blocked me from Facebook, Instagram, his phone, etc.
I was thinking about him yesterday after I’d had a couple of glasses of wine with SexyPants, which is a whole other story in itself, but I went home and sent him a Happy Birthday email - quickly, before I thought about it too much and changed my mind.
It said simply, “Happy Birthday! It’s finally here! Thinking of you…“
Then I took a nap.
When I woke up, there was a reply. This was it:
you know, i am in paris right now. and all of the buildings look like
your apartment. and all of the people take their dogs with them
everywhere they go. and all anyone drinks is champagne. so… i guess
it’s not a surprise that i heard from you. who knows, maybe you’re
supposed to live here.
thank you for remembering my birthday. and happy birthday to you, as
well. you were born on a powerful day. remember, you’re nobody’s
bitch. and you call the shots. always. that you’re destine (sic) to be your
own boss and will be highly successful once you are. next month begins
a bonanza for you that blows sky high at Christmas. it’s a great time
to be you– so make the most of it.
ps. the flight over here was an asskicker even in first class. not sure
how you traveled all the way to china all of the time.
Well, well. He lives and he wrote me back quickly - on his birthday - while he was celebrating in Paris. I thought that the reply was interesting in that it was all about me. I wonder what that means?
Regardless, I was happy to get a reply. Surprised, but happy.
xox,
GS
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