Tonight, I hauled Chris and me out to Elmhurst to have an all-you-can-eat Chinese-style hot pot dinner with eight of my friends. Chris never likes leaving the borough of Manhattan during the winter because it’s cold, snowy, and dreary, but he makes an exception for my birthday. Eating in Elmhurst is always a great idea for a birthday because a) it’s always affordable compared with any Manhattan location), b) there’s a very tiny or nonexistent cake-cutting fee to bring in an outside cake, and c) you rarely get rushed in and out because of the Manhattan crowds. In Queens, no one cares. And this year, I found a Thai bar within short walking distance of the restaurant, so it worked out for boozing it up afterwards, too.

All of my friends brought me gifts, even though I never ask for them and never expect them. Even my friend’s new girlfriend, who I just met two months ago, brought me a small gift. As the years go by, I want far less “stuff” than I just do experiences and time with my friends. That’s all I really want or need. But being inundated with wrapped gifts and bags tonight, I felt grateful for their overwhelming generosity. Every year as I get older, I am more and more grateful to have the special people I have in my life. I don’t have a huge friend group, but I’m at a point in my life where I’m completely comfortable with it. I value the quality rather than the quantity. I may not see them that often or talk to them as often as I’d like, but when we’re together, you just know you have something amazing with them because everything feels comfortable and like no time has passed. I occasionally nitpick them and get annoyed with their foibles, but at the end of the day, love is what bonds us together — the love and affection we have for each other.