My husband took my son, age eight, camping for five days, and they had a fantastic time hiking, climbing, and getting very, very dirty. On their way home, we met up at the grandparents’ house to celebrate a cousin’s birthday.

I asked my son to go take a shower before we ate because he was so grubby. He didn’t want to, but he agreed that he’d do it after he had cake and ice cream. We ate, we sang “Happy Birthday”, and we had dessert.

Me: “Now you have to go take a shower.”

Son: “No, I don’t. You said I had to do it after cake and ice cream, so I only ate ice cream.”

My boyfriend organized a surprise birthday party for me. He’s been planning this for MONTHS and I’ve been 110% clueless.

He made me believe that he had to work today all day — 3:00 pm to 11:00 pm. My parents, who were also in on it, told me they were busy, so I had to spend my birthday by myself. I was actually pretty sad when I got a message from my dad around 6:00 pm, asking me if I wanted to have pizza with him and Mom tonight at their place.

When I arrived, my dad took me to the dining area, and they had prepared this really cute party, Stitch-themed (I love Stitch), complete with a bunch of food and drinks.

There were only a total of fifteen people, including my family, as well as my close friends. To my left there was my family and to my right were my friends, some of them who I hadn’t had the chance to hang out or even chat with for months. I said hi to everyone and hugged them all, and my mom told me to come check an audio file [Boyfriend] had sent me through her phone, so she could play it when the time was right.

As soon as she said that and I turned around, [Boyfriend] showed up all of a sudden, out of nowhere. I’d had hopes that I could spend some time with him today, but I knew he had to work (or so I believed), so I didn’t put much thought into it. When he suddenly showed up, I hugged him tight and actually burst into tears (which were probably exacerbated by the fact that I’m extra emotional due to a very inconveniently timed PMS).

Then, I noticed his gift. He had gotten in contact with an artist friend of mine (who was also at the party) and commissioned an illustration of me with all of my late and current pets. He’d had it framed and placed it where it could be seen easily, and I noticed it right away and nearly cried again.

I was basically wearing my pajamas, so I told [Boyfriend] quietly that I wanted to change clothes real quick (even though I was coincidentally wearing a Stitch shirt, which was awesome). and I went upstairs to change. This man had even thought of this sort of detail and had laid out a change of clothes for me on the bed.

We all talked and ate and drank and had fun for hours. We got into the pool, swam a bit, and laughed some more.

[Boyfriend] had found out about my favourite flavors of cake and got me not one, but two of them, plus snacks and other food and drinks, including stuff for those who don’t drink soda.

He even took into consideration my severe ADHD and how long it would take for me to get exhausted from socializing. By midnight, everyone was gone and everything was decently cleaned.

We then went upstairs, had a bath together, and played Hyrule Warriors until both of us were too tired to continue.

[Boyfriend] doesn’t earn much, and he’s super hardworking, yet he managed to find the time to organize such a sweet thing just to see me happy. He also doesn’t care about his birthdays because every single time, something bad has happened on his birthday before we met a year and a half ago, but he told me that he wanted to show me that he cares about my birthday and wanted me to see how much he cares about me.

He spent good money on the commission and even wondered if the price was fair because he felt it was too cheap for the quality and trouble. As an artist who has had to deal with customers who were the exact opposite, this hit me really hard and I was so, so proud of him.

I can see the amount of effort he put into this.

I’m currently typing this while he sleeps next to me. He’s snoring, loudly grinding his teeth, and basically practicing kickboxing on me in his sleep, but right now, I don’t even care. I had to tell someone about this because my love for this guy is overflowing, and I can’t imagine my life without him anymore. I’m so, so happy. I’m never letting go of this man.

This story is from a dinner party I hosted before the global health crisis. I invited six folks, and shortly after the invites were sent, I received a call from [Guest]. I wouldn’t call her a friend, but she is married to one of my best friends. As my friend has elected to stay married to her, I have tolerated her, so we are where we are.

Guest: “I’m now on a salt-free diet for medical reasons. At home, I cook without any salt.”

And she gave me a speech about how wonderful salt-free life was.

I was skeptical.

Me: “I would personally find it difficult to give up all salt. Are you sure you’re not just on a low-sodium diet?”

Guest: “Unless my dish is salt-free, I won’t be attending.”

Telling her no was an option; I’m not that person. I was pissed off at [Guest] for years of being difficult at the dinner table and restaurants. Trust me, there was always something wrong with her meal, or its preparation, or the flavor, or the waiter, or…

With a smile so large you could hear it through the phone, I assured her that her request for salt-free food was 100% going to be accommodated.

On the dinner night, I prepped the meal. [Guest] was getting the same thing as everything else, with one critical difference. All of her food was prepped in separate containers, baked on separate racks, and seasoned with exactly the same flavors — sans salt.

At dinner time, my guests arrived. I had all of [Guest]’s food plated on white plates. Everyone else got grey plates.

The first round was appetizers: fried calamari with a lemon jalapeño butter sauce. This dish typically has salt in both the batter and the sauce. As [Guest] couldn’t have that, I battered her calamari in salt-free seasonings and flour. Her condiment looked exactly the same but was made with unsalted butter and no added salt.

I place [Guest]’s plate in front of her first.

Guest: “I asked for salt-free!”

Me: “I assure you, your dish is salt-free. I made sure to cook yours separately from the rest and even used a different colored plate to keep it straight.”

We all sat to talk and enjoy the squid. [Guest] took a bite and made a face.

Guest: “Mine has no flavor!”

All of my other guests told [Guest] it was divine, delicious, the best they’d had, etc. I smiled at [Guest].

Me: “Your dish is flavored exactly like everyone else’s. The only difference is that you’ve received absolutely no salt.”

At that point, [Guest] had a moment of clarity. It was painfully obvious on her face. She realized she couldn’t complain about the lack of salt as she’d already told the table about her salt-free life. She also couldn’t claim it tasted terrible if everyone else was raving about the food. She literally looked like she was about to cry at the table.

As my guests enjoyed their dinner, [Guest] was slowly doing the toddler moves of playing with her food, munching, and pushing her calamari around the plate. After a few moments, she reached for the sauce that I’d made for everyone else.

Me: “[Guest]! Be careful; the salt-free sauce is in the white bowl. That one has salt.”

She mumbled something about wanting to taste the difference before literally dumping the bowl on her calamari.

Guest: “This tastes so much better!”

You and I know that, of course, things taste better with salt.

So, this drama repeated itself over the main course of honey-roasted salmon with pine nuts. I am no heathen and had both salt and pepper on the table for my guests. I’m not going to judge you for needing more flavor. Here we go!

[Guest] took a bite of her fish and once again realized that it had no salt. She reached for the salt shaker, and conversation stopped.

Guest #2: “[Guest], are you okay with adding salt to your food?”

Guest: “I can occasionally have salt.”

She proceeded to shower her fish with salt sprinkles.

I had also baked some cookies for dessert. The dough used a little salt, so I made sure to whip up a separate batch of cookies wrapped to-go for her. Salt-free, of course! When I handed her those cookies, the look of defeat that hit her face warmed my heart.

Dinner was over, and everyone was happy except for [Guest].

I called her the next week to make sure she was okay as she’d consumed sodium at my party.

Guest: “My doctor has removed my sodium restrictions. I won’t need that accommodation at future meals.”

On the phone, I congratulated her for her good health. When I hung up, I laughed until my sides hurt. Salt-free life apparently doesn’t taste good when the salt is actually omitted!

To anyone on a low- or no-sodium diet for their health, I commend you. I truly empathize with those living with medically restrictive diets. Life is hard enough without that being added into the mix. [Guest], however, wasn’t actually on this diet. This was evidenced by her shock at how salt-free food tasted. I confirmed with her husband that she’d never stopped using salt at home. Her salt-free claims were a ploy for attention that back-fired tastelessly.

Back many years ago, I spent a few months working in a clinic where the admin staff were very into birthdays. Once or twice a month, they would circulate a card for everyone to sign and ask for a small donation. On the birthday, the staff person would be asked to come into a meeting room and, surprise! Coworkers and cake.

Admin #1: “[My Name], would you like some cake?”

Me: “Oh, no, thank you.”

Admin #2: “Why not?”

Me: “I’m allergic to dairy, but thank you for offering; it does look good.”

They would keep pushing (“just a small piece”) but not too much, and then they’d let me be. This happened at every birthday for a while and then dwindled to a polite single offer where I’d remind them of my allergy and that was that.  

I learned that they always bought the same brand of packaged cake, so I went to the supermarket and read all the ingredients of the various flavors and styles, hoping to find something dairy-free, but this was pre-Internet and before there were things like vegan cakes at regular markets or even much choice at all. This was pretty much the only brand.

Six months later, it was time for my birthday. I was not surprised to find myself called to a room magically filled with people. I got a lovely card and good wishes. And then, there was cake. I was sure that, for my birthday, they’d get me something I could eat. 

Me: “That cake looks so good. Is it homemade?”

Admin #1: *Laughing* “No, it’s [Famous Brand].”

[Admin #2] handed me a piece.

Me: “No, thank you. I’m allergic.”

Admin #2: “Right.” *Smiles and hands the piece to someone else*

They weren’t being mean (allergies weren’t common back then), but it was obvious my birthday wasn’t the point. That’s when I figured out that this entire ritual wasn’t about anyone’s birthday (though it was sweet and it brought the staff together in a way). It was, in fact, all about the cake.

I’m at a church Christmas party, and we’re doing a white elephant gift exchange. A woman is opening a box full of items, and one is a whistle. [Woman] is known for being a bit out there.

Woman: “A whistle! I can use this for [Husband]! When I blow it, he comes!”

We all die laughing.

Woman: *Confused* “Why is everyone laughing?”

Husband: “I’ll explain it to you later…”