So, here we are my darling. Another year has passed, and you are now another year older.
Wiser? Maybe yes, maybe no. Depends on who you ask, and how well they know you.
This year you are 49. Not quite fifty - the BIG FIVE-OH MY GOD THERE'S AN ENVELOPE FROM AARP IN THE MAILBOX 50 is still one more year away. But it's getting damn close, and because I am your wife, and I love you so very, very much, I am compelled to (again) this year remind you of the most important fact of the day:
You will, my darling, my love, my sweetheart, always ALWAYS ALWAYS be older than me. If you should precede me in death, I shall happily - nay, gleefully - celebrate your birthday every year, as a reminder that, were you still by my side - you would still be OLDER THAN ME.
I might even petition President Suldog to make your birthday a National Holiday. Statues would be erected in town squares across the land in tribute of your efforts as my noble husband. And every September 19th, schoolchildren will perform Pageants celebrating the day of your birth. And everyone would eat fajitas and drink Dr. Pepper in your honor.
Happy Birthday to my husband.
I love you best and most.