Yay. Another Pity Party

It's on your 30th birthday that you discover who your real friends are.
Despite in theory having a bunch of people that I might call friends, in fact I have very few.
It is no secret to anyone who knows me that I have dreaded this day for months. 30 has been looming in the distances ever since I realized that I would turn 30 and be unmarried and essentially careerless. And yet, out of let's say 10 people I would call relatively close friends, people I have almost daily contact with...TWO of them remembered that today was my birthday.
TWO!
I know that since I don't have a husband, a baby or a house I might not be as important to those who have such things - but does that translate into the fact that they should forget the date of my birth?
I'm truly beyond hurt right now.
Last year my family essentially forgot and it caused much fighting and some rifts took months to fix. But they are my family and I knew that we'd eventually work through it all because of a base of love and shared history. With these people who I used to call my friends, there is none of that love and apparently the shared history means nothing to them.
Maybe I'll get over it in a couple of days, maybe not.
Either way, you really do learn who your friends are when you turn 30.