isoglossia

Although I am the sort of person who would ordinarily rather drink bleach than make a big deal about my birthday (or have a big deal made), I have to say that two years ago I wasn’t terribly bitter about turning another year older.

Since I am on vacation and away from the control panel of isoglossia.com at the moment, I can’t say how great or sucky (can’t ever rule that out) this current birthday is being. But I can safely say that my 39th birthday, which was observed in Toruń, Poland, with my brand-new, still-got-the-tag-on girlfriend, soon-to-be wife, was the best ever.

We had met only a few weeks before, and since Magda was in Slovenia for just two weeks, it was what you would call a “whirlwind courtship,” if you were totally gay. But that’s what it was, no matter what your sexual orientation. We had to work fast, but the two weeks was not enough. When I took Magda to the travel agent to pick up the non-refundable ticket that financially bound me to coming to visit her in Poland, it was a particularly romantic moment. Even then, she still didn’t believe that I was on the real. I don’t think she did until I tumbled off the baggage carousel at Warsaw airport. And I’m still not sure her parents really believed I existed until she wheeled me in the front door.

I do hate birthdays, but I had to go along with it. This right here was an early indication that I was serious about her: that I had allowed her to learn when my birthday falls. With most people I manage to hide that bit of information for a good two or three years, but here was Magda with major passport info in the first month of acquaintance. Good work.

Of course her parents made a big deal of it. How could they possibly know how much I would hate that? Or try to in vain?

The next morning she took me to the Baltic sea and the port city of Gdańsk for more herring. We took pictures of ourselves:

We stayed near the beach:

It was the best birthday ever.