(Yes, that Ellen.)
For ten years, I’ve written you a letter on our birthday. It all started when you were turning 50 and I was turning 18. You were an out and proud, successful entertainer and talk show host. I was a closeted, awkward high school senior. Somehow, sharing a birthday with you get more poignant than sharing a birthday with Wayne Gretzky.
Over the years, I’ve dreamt of celebrating our birthdays together on your birthday show. I’ve used my yearly letter to be witty and charming, and to dream of having our own weird, lesbian Real Housewives type of friendship, minus the drama.
This year, I almost didn’t write you.
In December, for a brief week, my world stopped for reasons I really am not ready to think about yet. Everyone who knew of my annual letter writing to you encouraged me to write to you, explain my life, and hope for a miracle.
Then, my wife and I got our own Christmas miracle. My doctor worked her magic, and suddenly insurance was on my side. Medical costs and debt were a thing of the past.
So, as I turn 28 and you turn 60, I feel nothing but gratitude. I spent this birthday week holed up at home, as per the same doctor’s orders. A simple medical procedure led to me having a freak response, and I spent part of this week in the hospital. I’m home now, and resting, but mostly feeling grateful.
I’m grateful that I’m no longer the lost and confused 18 year old who started writing to you ten years ago.
I’m grateful that I am constantly surrounded by love and acceptance, amongst family and friends.
I’m grateful that I’m happily married to my soul mate, and that we have two rescue pit bulls, Charity and Lola.
Most of all, I’m grateful to be turning 28 as you turn 60, Ellen. Happy birthday to us.
Here are a few of my past letters that haven’t been lost on the internet