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Remember eight weeks ago when your best friend’s girlfriend texted you about that surprise party she was throwing him? She invited all of his close friends and since he’s turning, oh, I don’t know 27 or 28, his mom and dad are even going to be in attendance. This is going to be an adult surprise party. One for the ages.
Remember when you gave her a list of a bunch of hip, super fun bars in an e-mail and she actually called ahead to all of them to see which ones would be willing to accommodate twenty to thirty people? Do you remember her saying that she needed a head count and you had to commit right then and there? Do you remember texting “count me in for sure” to your friend’s girlfriend? You don’t, do you?
It’s okay to admit that, but guess what? That surprise birthday party is this weekend, and I know for a fact that even though it’s one of your good buddies, you still don’t really feel like going. Just imagine it. I’ve got one coming up and I’m absolutely dreading it. I lie awake some nights thinking about how awful it’s going to be.
The small talk with people I only sort of know. The shitty buffet-style trays with the little gel heaters that are going to be set up for our back room party. The disdain in the eyes of our waitress who knows she could be making better money if she was working regular tables that night.
It’s going to be bad but I have to go because… well, I said I would and I’m not 23 anymore. I can’t just say I’m hungover and not show up to things because people “expect better of me.”
In the case of surprise birthday parties I’d just like to say one thing: fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck that.
We’ve all been in this situation before. One or two months before the “big day,” you get invited to a surprise birthday party for a close friend. You accept and you pay the thirty or forty dollar Venmo charge without a second thought because it’s so far out at that point that it doesn’t matter. You forget all about it an hour later.
But then one or two weeks before the surprise party a Facebook event is created. A countdown. A reminder to not say anything to the guy or girl who is turning 28 fucking years old and is getting a goddamn party thrown for him like he’s a toddler.
We all hate birthday parties in our mid-to-late twenties. If you genuinely enjoy birthday parties at this age, you’re certifiably insane. That’s not an opinion, that’s a fact.
They’re more funeral than party at this point. Celebrating the end of youth and singledom. And while the surprise birthday party is certainly not that much fun for an attendee, it’s even worse for the poor sap who has no idea what they’re walking into. Hell, a lot of the time the person who is supposed to be getting surprised is warned in advance.
You know how in every movie where there’s a surprise birthday party scene someone inevitably says, “Oh, I can’t believe this. He/she hates surprises”? We hear that phrase all of the time for a reason. It’s ingrained in our subconscious because nobody fucking likes surprise birthday parties. They stink.
Tell me what’s fun about walking into a dark room and getting screamed at by twenty, thirty, sometimes forty fucking people? It’s terrifying.
And then what do you do for the rest of the party? I’ll tell you what you do. You eat cold cuts, lukewarm chicken fingers, and dip strawberries into a chocolate fountain while your buddy works the room and thanks everyone for coming out.
Surprise party? How about a shot and a beer with three or four of my close friends in a non-distinct bar? How about a quiet evening out with my parents and literally no one else? How about just not celebrating the fact that I’m one year closer to thirty years old?
Get the fuck out of here with surprise birthday parties. We’re not turning seven and I’m not going to be happy when I piss my pants walking into a room full of people jumping and screaming at me as I walk through a door. .
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jduda@grandex.co
Unhinged Duda.
Completely Unhinged Duda. Doesn’t enjoy surprises or the opportunity to spend time with friends or branch out to make new friends, truly Sad!
I think @girl has some strong opinions on surprises (or lack thereof).
Can’t imagine anyone will throw you one, Duda. Don’t worry.
I actually agree with more of your takes than I would like to admit but I am 100% with you on this one.
Agree. If I want to see you on my birthday (I don’t) I’ll let you know (no I won’t).
The best birthdays now are me, my grill, two steaks, the first weekend of college football, and Mrs. Rico not judging my having poured a few extra cocktails.
Damn Duda, I couldn’t agree with you more.
My birthday this year falls on Thanksgiving so I’m actually really happy because I have an excuse not to celebrate.
Conflicted. On one hand I still like celebrating my friends’ birthdays, but on the other I love how triggered your friend’s girlfriend will be when she reads this article.
I felt this way until I was the recipient of a surprise party. I was really depressed around the time I was turning 24 and didn’t want to celebrate that year. My room mate threw me an awesome party, literally 20 of my friends barged in as I was lying on the couch on a Friday night. I was totally surprised and it was a great party.
That is a kind of surprise party I can get behind.
“How about just not celebrating the fact that I’m one year closer to thirty years old?”
Thank you for saying it.
-a disgruntled newly-28-year-old
My favorite birthday is Sunday football at my favorite bar with friends and hot pretzels. Surprise parties suck, I agree.
Never been invited to a surprise birthday party. PGPM