ME: Okay, what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?
HIM: (lying) I don’t want you to make a big fuss.
ME: That’s not an option. Let’s move on.
HIM: Seriously, I’m going to work all day, then go swim.
ME: Okay, it’s your birthday, do what you want. We’ll celebrate when you come home.
HIM: You’re not mad that I’m going swimming after work?
ME: No, it’s your birthday, do what you want, now what kind of cake do you want?
HIM: I’m trying to give up cake. You just want me to look old.
ME: No I don’t. (Thinking… all right, if you insist, I’ll play) Okay, no problem, I won’t get you a cake.
HIM: (Pissed) Fine, don’t get me a cake.
ME: You said you didn’t want one.
HIM: You made Alex a beautiful cake!
ME: Cause EVERY year, I make Alex a cake. It’s simple, it’s easy, yellow cake with chocolate frosting… and he’s appreciative and happy.
HIM: Julia should be making him a cake NOT YOU! She’s his girlfriend.
ME: I know, but Julia is an uptown white girl and an MD. Those are major liabilities. Julia can’t bake a good birthday cake.
HIM: I’m sure Julia can bake a great cake. Maybe I should have her make my cake.
ME: Go right ahead, and let me know how that works out for you.
HIM: Why must you be such an asshole?
ME: Why must you be so fucking difficult? EVERY birthday you’re like this.
HIM: Well excuse me for not being like you. (mocking me) “It’s my birthday stop the world!”
ME: At LEAST that’s a clearly defined parameter.