My boyfriend is throwing one anyway. And almost everyone invited are his friends.
I appreciate the gesture and thought, but I’m not really looking forward to tonight. More than anything, I don’t want people I barely know to feel obligated to show up… Am I an asshole?
No. The birthday person should have the right to dictate within a certain degree how the birthday is celebrated. Or not celebrated.
So says the woman who has had to clean the house, buy snacks, assure a properly wide beverage selection, bake her own cake, and entertain her inlaws for her own birthday on too many occasions. Because it’s my birthday! It would such a shame not to celebrate my birthday! :rolleyes:
From yet another person who frequently has to clean, cook and bake her own birthday cake (this time it’s usually because my mom insists on coming and “cooking” for me, which translates to standing over me, criticizing while I cook), I offer you my deepest sympathies.
I hope you manage to get a little bit of fun in regardless.
No you are not. I would perfectly happy to ignore the fact that I even have birthdays, but those around me won’t let that happen. I know they mean well but I find it extremely intrusive to insist that I celebrate something that I really don’t want to.
This thread is better suited for IMHO.
I’ll move it for you.
Cajun Man
for the SDMB
(Happy Birthday!)
Well, we need to know more. Are you expected to *do *anything besides show up, eat cake and open presents?
Happy Birthday anyway. People always forget mine, so at least he remembered.
Doesn’t sound to me like he’s thinking much about you if he’s throwing a party against your wishes and inviting mostly his friends. :\
Happy birthday to you. Hope you get to spend at least part of it doing what you want.
I usually throw my own birthday party, but for my 40th, I just couldn’t get into it. Didn’t want to do anything except sit at home and feel death creep up on me.
My friends had other ideas, and I was thrown a surprise party. I was less than thrilled, and the photos show that - everyone shouting surprise, and me trying hard not to cry and run from the restaurant.
Turns out I had the greatest night. It was a hell of a party. I’m glad I went.
Happy Birthday, Q - and have fun.
I usually dread going to parties. But I can’t think of any party that I’ve been to that I’ve absolutely hated. Most of them turn out to be much better than I thought they’d be.
But I know how it feels not to want any attention and to put on a “party” face. I hope it’s not going to be so bad.
Not at all. My ex-husband did this for me, once. A surprise party, at that. He invited mostly his friends, a few of ours, and one of mine. Then he told me he wanted a divorce. On my birthday. Lovely.
Hope yours goes better than that! And happy birthday! 
Yeah - top THAT! 
Qazzz, I’m not sure why the worst thing is people feeling obligated to show up. Why isn’t the worst thing your boyfriend ignoring your wishes and forcing a social obligation on you that you don’t want?
He told you in front of all those people at the party he invited them to? :eek:
Instant detesticulation would have been an appropriate response.
So make an appearance, eat some cake, then head out and do what you want to do, be it a movie with a girlfriend or browsing a bookstore.
Or you can just plead headache and retire to the bedroom to watch TV and relax.
Could it be that he wrongly interpreted “I don’t really want a party” to mean “If you don’t do something for my birthday I’ll never forgive you?”
'Cause in my experience these things seem to happen often.
Well, I work in Chicago, and don’t have any plans for tonight. Just saying, if you want someone to show up other than your BF’s friends!
He did, and the thought crossed my mind. Instead, I abandoned the party and retreated to my bedroom with a bottle of rum and a plate of Buffalo wings, and sobbed on my best friend’s shoulder for a few hours. (Then I made plans and moved out.) At least it was a memorable birthday.
A couple of years ago I was employed with a monthly magazine publisher, which meant that the last third of the month was always exhausting and insane. My birthday falls on the 22nd of the month so that meant that on my birthday I was working frantically, with little advance knowledge of when I’d get home. So when my husband called several times to verify when I’d be home that night I didn’t think anything of it. Finally, the day ended. I couldn’t WAIT to get home, rest, grab some rum over ice, read SDMB, and chill.
So, I arrived home and hubbie had a surprise birthday party going for me (for which, to add to the pain, he had put together a dreadful meal … he bought chicken at a questionable butcher [in Egypt we choose our meat sources carefully] and grilled it in a rush so it was burned outside, raw in the middle).
Faking pleasure at that party was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I managed. Barely.
Until the guests left. Then, I’m somewhat ashamed to say, I kind of lit into hubby. We’d been married 23 years at that point and he knew, or should have known, damn well that I HATE most parties, and I HATE being the center of attention. I managed not to be too evil, but I did explain that the only time he is ever allowed to give me a surprise party is on a birthday ending in 0. Other than that, I probably don’t want a party at all, and if I do have a party, I want to be in on the planning of it (not to mention the food prep). He meekly agreed, but I think he loved me just a smidgen less that night.
A few weeks later I read a similar saga in whatever one of the old Ann Landers/Abigail Van Buren columns has morphed into. Frankly, I expected the advice provider to say “get a life! You should be thrilled to pieces that someone cares enough about you to throw a surprise party for you. Stop whining, bitch.”
To my surprise and gratification, the advice provider sided with the unhappy birthday girl, saying it is WRONG to force people to endure parties in their honor, especially surprise parties. She said that an expression of anger at having one’s wishes disregarded was perfectly understandable.
I felt so vindicated. And Qazzz, no, you were not being an asshole.
My Birthday is my singular “High Holy Day”. It is MY DAY. Period. I get to do whatever I want. I do not work. Try to make me and I’ll call in sick.
Unfortunately, my ex-wife always pissed all over my special day by making other plans with her friends, usually out of town, despite knowing how I felt.
Hence any future Mrs. Chimera will have to have a better attitude about it. (I’m happy to reciprocate!)
So from my perspective, hell no you’re not an asshole for wanting to do what you want to do on your birthday.
I’d even say it’s your birthright! 