Dark Side Thursday: It’s Not My Birthday, and It’s Not Even Thursday

This is my idiosyncratic (not to be confused with idiotic) contribution to Andy Townend’s Dark Side Thursday challenge. It’s a bright take on my dark side, so it’s no match to Andy’s very own cemetery serial story or Desleyjane’s inaugural contribution describing her own murder.


I woke up to a bunch of birthday wishes today, and it’s not even my birthday. The internet thinks that it is, though, so the reality is irrelevant. It’s all the fault of my dark side. My dark side thinks that my birthday is nobody’s business, so when I registered for Facebook, I filled in a fake date.

Telling the date when I was born isn’t a big deal, but that’s how it starts: you give Facebook your birthdate and the next thing they’ll want your measurements. I didn’t feed Facebook a random date though. I used the other most important date of my life: not my wedding date (which was smart, considering that I divorced), but my graduation date. Graduating is a much more memorable achievement than being born or being married.


Now how to explain it to the mislead well-wishers. I received lovely birthday wishes from a dear fellow blogger the first thing in the morning. When I texted back with a thanks and an observation that it wasn’t my birthday, my poor friend was devastated. I also mentioned that my birthday was actually in July, but I accidentally typed June, on which I corrected myself, and now I think she thinks I wasn’t even born at all.

That much to my credibility. A better informed well-wisher, better informed because he eavesdropped on the previous awkward conversation, proceeded to wish me a happy unbirthday. I suppose it’s better than an unhappy birthday. I unthanked him anyway. I’m just like the Queen in reverse: I celebrate my official birthday in spring while it’s actually in summer.

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Author: Mara Eastern

I'm a sardonic blogger, snapper, scribbler and rhymer; a virtual space invader who indulges in cheerful negativism, morbid self-deprecation and bleak humour.

40 thoughts

    1. Thank you! My weekend flew away in travelling preparations and travelling to London, hence my long silence – now in London and having a wonderful time indeed 🙂 Wishing the same to you, weekend or not, London or not!

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  1. Google+ told me it was your birthday (and I wished you a happy birthday I think and added “is this your birthday?”) , but I assumed that the date wasn’t really your birthday, because I also gave them fake dates when registering. Personally I gave them the birthdate of some character in a book, which would make me something like 67 years old by now…

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    1. Haha, that’s good, thank you for your reassuring comment. You assumed right that I’m a lying liar who lies about her birthday (in other words, a woman :-O ). You are quite well preserved for a guy nearing his seventies btw 😀

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      1. Hehe, people have always told me that I look younger than my real age. In Norway you have to be 18 to buy beers in the supermarkets and the last time I was asked to show an ID, I was 35.
        I’m not sure if the woman working there was hitting on me or if she was just stupid (perhaps both?).

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        1. Funny 😀 I would be flattered if people asked me to present my ID when buying my booze, sadly enough, they can’t be bothered. Here the age limit is 18 too, so apparently I don’t look 18 anymore. Huh.

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