<http://schema.org/articleBody>
"   Somebody has a birthday coming up. And that somebody is me. I have been waiting to turn the big 2-5 ever since I first saw that Sex and the City episode. You know the one. The one where Carrie&amp;amp;#146;s friends are a no-show at her birthday dinner, and the chick sitting behind her, who is also celebrating her birthday, bellows, &amp;amp;#147;25? Fuck I&amp;amp;#146;m old!&amp;amp;#148; right before blowing out the candles on her cake. I can&amp;#039;t believe I finally have carte blanche to say that all night long and no one can get annoyed with me. Well, they can, but they have to hide it because I&amp;amp;#146;m the birthday girl.  Even though my birthday is technically on Sunday, I&amp;amp;#146;m celebrating on Saturday. I plan to be doing the Spring Break Shake well into the wee hours of the night, so it will be my &amp;amp;#147;real&amp;amp;#148; birthday for a good chunk of the festivities.  But I have a dilemma. Nina had emailed a bunch of our friends a save-the-date for my birthday well before the holidays, which pre-dated all the Ashley/Luke/me awkwardness. The plan is this: Big group dinner at this phenomenal BBQ spot in Harlem, then tearing up the dance floor at cheesy bars on the Upper East Side. All significant others are invited.  &amp;amp;#147;What do you want me to do about Ashley?&amp;amp;#148; Nina was sitting on my couch, her iPad perched on her lap, an email with the finalized plans on the screen.  &amp;amp;#147;Well, I have three options, right?&amp;amp;#148; I counted on my fingers as I spoke. &amp;amp;#147;One, I can invite Ashley and Luke even though they&amp;amp;#146;re acting like a real pair of a-holes right now, two, I can invite Ashley and not Luke, or three, not invite either of them.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;I would strongly advise against number two.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;I agree,&amp;amp;#148; I said. &amp;amp;#147;That one is out.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;Which means you either invite them both or not invite either of them.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;You know what?&amp;amp;#148; I said. &amp;amp;#147;Invite them.&amp;amp;#148;  Nina reached out and pressed her hand against my forehead.  &amp;amp;#147;What are you doing?&amp;amp;#148; I batted her hand away.  &amp;amp;#147;Making sure you&amp;amp;#146;re feeling alright,&amp;amp;#148; Nina said.  &amp;amp;#147;Believe me, I&amp;amp;#146;m not doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I&amp;amp;#146;m doing this to show to them how ridiculous they&amp;amp;#146;re both acting.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;Do you think they&amp;amp;#146;ll come?&amp;amp;#148;  I shrugged. The thought of Ashley not coming to my birthday dinner caused a lump to form in my throat. Even though she&amp;amp;#146;s not acting like the Ashley I know right now, I couldn&amp;amp;#146;t imagine being with Nina, Justin, and all of our friends except Ashley on my birthday. We&amp;amp;#146;ve been inseparable for the last six years.  &amp;amp;#147;Just put them on the email,&amp;amp;#148; I said.  &amp;amp;#147;Alright.&amp;amp;#148; I watched as Nina typed their names into the &amp;amp;#147;to&amp;amp;#148; box and hit send.  &amp;amp;#147;Now,&amp;amp;#148; Nina said. &amp;amp;#147;The real question is whether or not you are going to be engaging in this&amp;amp;#133;.&amp;amp;#148; She pressed a button on her iPad and the song, &amp;amp;#147;Birthday Sex&amp;amp;#148; started to play. I threw one of my new decorative couch pillows at her.  &amp;amp;#147;Well, are you?&amp;amp;#148; Nina demanded.  &amp;amp;#147;I don&amp;#039;t want my first time with Justin to be drunk, sloppy sex.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;Blasphemy!&amp;amp;#148; Nina covered her heart with her hand. &amp;amp;#147;That&amp;amp;#146;s the best kind to have.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;Yeah, with a rando. Not a guy you want to go to brunch with in the morning.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;We agree to disagree,&amp;amp;#148; Nina sighed.  &amp;amp;#147;He did tell me he has a special surprise planned for me on Sunday.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;Cute!&amp;amp;#148; Nina said.  I couldn&amp;#039;t help but grin. &amp;amp;#147;I know. It makes me giddy thinking about what it could be.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;Maybe it&amp;amp;#146;s a Skype apology from his biotch sister.&amp;amp;#148;   &amp;amp;#147;Um, I was thinking more along the lines of a couples&amp;amp;#146; massage.&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;Don&amp;amp;#146;t you have to be a couple to qualify?&amp;amp;#148; Nina winked.  &amp;amp;#147;Well maybe we will be after this weekend. Who knows?&amp;amp;#148;  &amp;amp;#147;Oh lala.&amp;amp;#148; I&amp;amp;#146;m about to break out a mega-clich\u00E9 here, but I&amp;#039;m really amazed at the difference a year makes. This time last year I was fresh out of an unhealthy five-year relationship, I couldn&amp;#039;t run a mile without throwing up, and I was a struggling writer. Now, I&amp;amp;#146;m dating a great guy, I can run 11 miles, and I have a book deal. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I&amp;amp;#146;d say I&amp;amp;#146;m doing alright. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a11415/j-bedroom-blog-another-year-older-another-year-wiser/>