Got to be when I was about 8 and someone stole my football stickers and I cried.
My brother and I were born three years and one day apart, so we always had joint birthday parties. Imagine a group of kids, 6yo and 9yo, or 8yo and 11yo. I don’t know how our mom pulled that off, but it sucked for the two of us.
Multiple years. One of my classmates and I shared birthdays: he was from that town, I was not; he started invitations one month in advance, I wasn’t allowed to do it until a week before the date at best. In third grade, his mother suggested having a shared party, mine refused because “how are we going to have a party for boys and girls!!!” “uh… ours already is for boys and girls… almost forty of them?” (the whole class except for those who lived out of town, plus relatives).
I never had a birthday party as a kid. We didn’t do that in our house.
Two of them:
Age 20: It was my first day at my new job as a grocery store cashier. At the end of your shift, you had to cash out and the people in the cash office would tally all the credit card receipts, checks, WIC, food stamps and cash. If your drawer was off by, say, $5 or less you were fine. If it was over $10, you got a warning. My drawer was $60 short for some reason, which I think was supposed to be grounds for immediate termination. I had to stay late while the cash office counted and tallied again and again and trying to figure out the error. I was burning with shame and exhausted from a long first day. I think I didn’t get fired because it was my first day, but I got a severe talking-to.
When I came home, I found the tired, straggled remains of a party that had occurred while I was at work. A few worn-out people were still milling around, but it was clear that the party was long over. I found out that my friends had arranged with my parents a surprise birthday party for me, but apparently nobody had thought to check what time I got off work and staying extra late didn’t help things. Most everyone had given up and gone home. I was also told my both my friends and parents that it had actually been a pretty fun party. Too bad I missed it.
Age 21: My 21st birthday! Hooray! Should be a rager, right? Nope- my birthday fell on a Sunday and also on Mother’s Day. My state had blue laws at the time and you couldn’t buy booze on Sundays. Besides, my mom had scheduled us to help my grandma move into a new condo that day. She said “You don’t mind helping Grandma move on your birthday, right?” I couldn’t be a terrible person and refuse to help Grandma move, so that birthday was rather lame.
Heh- I didn’t realize until I wrote this out that my two worst birthdays were back-to-back. No worries, I had better ones than that both before and after 
My 33rd … the kids demanded I put that many candles on my cake … set the kitchen on fire …
I had a painful operation just before my birthday, 2 years in a row.
For birthday gifts one year, I got a used dremel with broken bits and plaster dust all over everything, in a beat-up plastic box, and a baseball cap for a sports team I followed - that was given away by the newspaper in that town, and had their name on the back of it. The hat was likely a mistake. It was probably bought from Ebay, without realizing it was a giveaway promo item. It fits funny, and feels weird when I wear it.
I was walking through a store with my ex(before we broke up, of course), and we saw a black leather “Fonzie” jacket. “Too bad it’s not a brown leather bomber jacket.”, I said, “I’ve always wanted one. I don’t like the black ones.” I guess she wasn’t listening to me very well, and for my birthday, I got that black leather jacket. Kind of a bummer. I still have that jacket almost 20 years later, and I still don’t really care for it, but I can’t throw out a perfectly good jacket. I still don’t have a brown leather bomber jacket. I wonder, if she’d got me one, if I’d still have it today instead of the one I didn’t want.
One year one of our best friends died the day before my birthday. The next year my sister died on my birthday. Do I win anything?
Seriously, as an adult, the fact that it was my birthday hardly meant anything and became an outlet for some grieving humor.
One year I saw a black leather jacket that was at a really good price. Later that week I told my wife I was thinking about getting the jacket. She was against it. Later, I said that it was stupidly cheap and that I really wanted one just like it. Again, no. Finally, I talked to her and said it’s such a small amount of money, I was getting it anyway. She looks at me and says I ALREADY GOT YOU THE DAMN JACKET FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!
Wah Waaah.
One year when I was 14 or 15 nobody in my family remembered it was my birthday until the next morning.
My birthday is April Fool’s Day. It always sucks. I basically just ignore it and avoid everyone now.
There were the “fun” parties as a kid, where my mom would play a prank on me to amuse the attendees. There were a few “oh, we forgot to get you presents” birthdays. And some “we didn’t think you really wanted [thing I wanted]”. Usually, the actual present would be hauled out only after I’d had a screaming meltdown and the birthday was ruined, anyway.
My 21st birthday fell on Easter, so my mom threw a fit to make me come home from college (missing the party my friends had planned for me), so she could “celebrate it with the family” - her, my dad, my brother. We went out for Easter brunch, and they gave me a card. They forgot the present at home. It was a sweater.
My 30th birthday, my mom thought it would be a fun idea to wrap 30 presents for me. I had to unwrap thirty craptacular gifts, including: dress socks, Hersheys bar with almonds (I’m allergic to nuts), shaving lotion, and toilet paper. Yes, she wrapped a roll of toilet paper. I refused to unwrap any of the remaining crap, and of course she accused me of being selfish.
In addition to the incredibly shitty presents from mom, after childhood there’d always be someone who thought a joke present or surprise party would be great “fun”. By that time, I was so averse to birthdays that I usually disappeared before they could find me for the party. I got caught by a singing telegram one year at college in the dorms, but twice failed to show up for whatever excuse they’d tried to lure me to a surprise party.
Both times, I was off having fun with friends who actually liked me.
Now, my nephews and niece are gobsmacked that I don’t want a birthday party for me, but as long as there is loot on theirs, all is well. (and I give great gifts, as a consequence of a lifetime of disappointments.)
Oh yeah, I forgot the years after I found out I was allergic to nuts, that my mom would make a chocolate pie for my birthday. And “forget” to tell me there were almonds in it, because I was “obviously just being dramatic”. I’ve got no end of birthday issues.
back then, you could buy booze at 18. Finally, the Big Day arrived…at Ft. Benning GA. 
I had it pretty easy for a “bad” birthday. It was simply that I was supposed to have a birthday party (I think I was 7?), but then mom got a cyst and needed to have it removed the week before. She was laid up healing, and father had no intention of following through on any sort of birthday party for me. After I reminded them of the fact it was my birthday, I received one cupcake and nothing else.
I’m not sure which year it was, but I think it was 15. My parents were away on vacation. Left an older step-sibling in charge. Nobody gave any fucks that it was my birthday. No cake, no presents, my parents didn’t even call me from wherever they were to say happy birthday. I don’t recall anyone telling me happy birthday. One month later, my dad calls me over to his desk and tosses to me a 4-pack of rainbow colored pencils with my name printed on them. The $0.99 price tag was still on the package. He muttered something about, “I forgot to give this to you” and that was my 15th birthday.
The next year, on my 16th, I actually went on vacation with them. We went camping. It had rained the night before and our tents leaked, so we stopped at a Kmart somewhere where I spotted this cute little yellow windbreaker (jacket). My stepmonster said I could get it. On the way out of the store, she told me happy birthday. That was my Sweet 16.
I never managed to have successful birthday parties as a kid. My birthday is in the middle of the summer and somehow, everyone I know always seems to be on vacation during my birthday. A couple times, I’d be allowed to “throw” a party, invite a dozen or so people and maybe one would show up. I’d be eating cake with my gramma and my sister. And, somehow that still happens as an adult. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve up and cancelled my birthday because I couldn’t get more than three people to show up at a thing at the same time. I’ve stopped even trying because the disappointment is just heartbreaking. I’m not talking about throwing huge parties; just maybe getting more than a couple people together for drinks and dinner or something low-key. Can’t seem to make it happen.
I feel your pain. My father died on my birthday.
My ex gave me a pedometer on my birthday so I’d lose weight. Just so happens the same birthday my mom gave me an exercise DVD. I’d made no comment to either of them about wanting to lose weight.
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My fiancée miscarried on my birthday.
The first year after we moved to a new town, I invited every kid in the neighborhood to my 10th birthday party, and nobody showed. That was pretty bad.
I’ve had worse birthdays, but that’s the worst one I’m comfortable talking about on this message board.
Oh shit, you too? It’s a bitch, ain’t it? nine out of twelve years, you have to go to school on your birthday, and the other three, you have to share your birthday with your mom.
For my 21st:
Awoke in incredible pain.
Was in surgery 3 hours later - emergency appendectomy. Doc said it was ready to burst.
On the plus side: Demerol beats the hell out of alcohol…
One I recall most was when I was 10- a gather-around-table-with-family-and-food thing turned into a massive family fight, while I sat in the corner and felt extremely uncomfortable for over an hour.
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