The invitation to my party on Sunday read:
PS: No gifts, thanks.
About half-way through the evening, Bill the Bartender brought over a round of birthday shots and I proposed a toast to my loyal friends. Who said:
‘Oh wow, it’s your birthday? We wondered why you said ‘No gifts’. What age are you?’
‘Um, thirty. As in, version 3.0…’
Teetering in my little black dress and heels, I felt about as socially well-adjusted as Bill Gates. Even the engineers hadn’t got it.