I'm not naturally a nice person. If I didn't squeeze you out of my body or eat cake with you before I was old enough to know how to use a fork then I probably don't know when your birthday is. If I do happen to have it written down I'm probably not going to send a card. I just don't give a crap about birthdays. I bother to celebrate them for the people I love because there's always a chance they do care but, seriously, your mom and her doctor deserve way more of the credit for your birthday than you do.
I think there may have been a third day of puberty education when they taught sassy young girls how to become nice young women but I didn't go that day. Day Two blew my mind. How on earth do guys get a good night's sleep knowing they have a weapon that could go off at any moment? It sounded like sleeping with a water balloon to me. Fascinating and terrifying but not nice.
Now that I'm older I'm working on niceness. I don't want to be June Cleaver creepy nice, I just want to remember to use the word "Please" before "build a bridge and get over it."