There's a cruel irony in being a teetotaler who turns 21 the day before St. Patrick's Day. I had never been a popular kid (I always hung out on the periphery) but I still figured that people liked me despite my experience in genetics lab. And, in 2010 at least, I had never been coy about my dislike for alcohol. That carried on until March 2011. In a class, I don't remember what the name of the class was, I was set to give a presentation on funeral rituals from around the world. The date was March 11th. When class time rolled around my partner for the presentation didn't. It was just assumed that since he was Japanese he skipped class because he was worried about his family back home. It wasn't anything more than a minor annoyance at the time.
My 21st occurred on the following Wednesday. In the previous months I had seen friends celebrating their 21st birthdays on Facebook, posting pictures with all their friends at some bar. I figured my friends would try to do the same with me or at least make a joke on Facebook. But none of that happened. Whereas most people receive hundreds of 'happy birthday' wishes I got around twenty, mostly from relatives. It hurt deeply. The illusion that anyone liked me was shattered and I needed someone to lean on. For a few months I mostly carried on as if nothing was wrong. Then a female friend took a trip to Costa Rica over the summer.
