You Can't Come to My Birthday Party

Do you remember how much it hurt when you were a kid and you found out someone was having a birthday party and you weren't invited?

(Or maybe you don't - maybe you were super popular. But I wasn't, and I do.)

It doesn't hurt any less as an adult.

Last night I was at a writing group meeting. Now, I've only just joined and there's three others who've been meeting a long time. They're fairly tight, but that's understandable and fine by me.

But then someone mentioned that one of the guys had a get together the night before and invited the other two. "Oh, sorry. If I'd known you were around I would have invited you." Which he said out of politeness but certainly not with sincerity.

The thing is, I don't know that if I knew this guy under any other circumstances, I would want to be his friend. He's very self-righteous and self-important. He definitely likes to hear himself talk and thinks he's an expert on all fronts. He's sort of like BBB, but without the wit or the (albeit well-hidden) tenderness.

But, there you have it. He had a party and I wasn't invited. And there I was, feeling low, and no new Barbie outfit to show for it.

Growing up sucks sometimes.