ides of March and other lucky days

 (Disclaimer: unless you're in a particularly generous and contemplative mood, this post is longer than its topic warrants.)

Shakespeare's Julius Caesar—a hilarious comedy, if your name is Brutus.

Caesar:
Who is it in the press that calls on me?
I hear a tongue shriller than all the music*
Cry "Caesar!" Speak, Caesar is turn'd to hear.

Soothsayer:
Beware the ides of March.

The link tells you some cool facts about the history of the "ides", but the short version is: in March it's the 15th.

Caesar's supposed to beware it because he gets stabbed to death—as the Wikipedia article notes, "23 times". None too shabby, guys. None too shabby.

I met two girls lately. One of them was briefly involved with me, so briefly that it requires a subordinate clause containing the word, in November. Not any more. The other girl I've been slightly more careful with in terms of friendship.

Once in December the second girl and I were talking about special days or something and it occurred to me I didn't know the birthday of the first one. So I said to my friend, "By the way, what's your birthday?"

"March 16th," she said, and I, since I am a nerd who always has the most random references from literature in the back of his head, thought, Whew! close.

The next time I saw the first girl (on less romantic terms than in the past), I asked when hers was. "November." — "Oh! Did I miss it? I should have asked." — "No, I've made a habit of not telling people. I think none of my recent friends knows when it is. You were there, though." I wasn't sure, but I had a vague suspicion I had accidentally chosen that day to give the worst birthday present ever. But anyway, it was an interesting idea—not telling anyone.

With this second girl, so far I've taken an approach of  complete honesty and openness. Well, I usually do—I'm no good at keeping secrets, especially about myself—but this is more intentional. She knows far more about me than a recent friend should, to be honest (har har). It's even become a topic of discussion, since she considers herself to have "the bad habit" of not doing the same, but "telling people what they want to hear".

"But," she said, "you're making me better in some ways."

 Which made my heart smile a little.

But when she called me today, I'd just gotten home from a long day at work and was feeling a little uneasy. She brought up the subject of going out to see special events together, such as a classical music concert (which she'd like to try), and asked me when my birthday was, with somewhat ambiguous implications.

"July, right?" she said, and for some reason I held my breath. "The eleventh?"

I exhaled, smiled, and hesitated. Finally, I said, "Close—but nope."

I feel mischievous. I'm gonna hold on to this one for now.



*How could I not make specific mention of the amazing poetry of this line?

romance

is among the most complicated things on Earth

if you let it be

I'm gonna have to let it be

(damn)

well, I guess one of us must know (sooner or later) ...