In a few days, my boyfriend Jeff and I will celebrate our one-year anniversary.
Neither of us has had a relationship last this long before. I once made it to 11 months with a boyfriend before Jeff, but by that point we were only speaking to each other via lines from Family Guy.""
After that disaster, I decided to remain single and possibly celibate (yeah, right) until my dying day. Then I met Jeff and, one year later, it's time to celebrate.
But what are anniversaries really, if not just a big congratulations for not breaking up? Relationships, especially young ones, are constantly facing the strife of figuring out who the other person really is, usually by means of quirky incidents often involving tones you didn't know the human voice was capable of, and suspicious smells you didn't know could come from the opposite sex.
If you can survive all of that, you get to toast each other on the anniversary of your first date, or your first kiss, or the first time you saw each other naked without running for cover.
Now, I get to do all of that with Jeff. But like everyone else, before we made it to this point, we had to survive our share of trauma, like ...
That time I thought he was kidnapped by Chinese terrorists
Jeff spent last summer interning in China. I called his cell phone one morning but was instead greeted with a happy ""Ni hao"" belonging to a voice much too deep to be that of my boyfriend.
Being the calm and rational human that I am, with a broad understanding of technology's imperfections, I decided that he was taken against his will and ruthlessly tortured. Now they were taunting him by answering his phone.
I quickly hung up the phone and called his mother to mourn her son's imminent murder.
My column
Thus far, I have shared with the entire UW-Madison campus intimate details about our sex life (see below) and Jeff's resemblance to a 12-year-old boy.
That time we couldn't remember what happened
We woke up one morning to find Jeff tied to the bed, the top half of my Spanish dictionary between my legs and a sacrificed squirrel on the nightstand.
We never figured out what happened. We never really discussed it again.
That time I thought I was fat
""Do these jeans make me look fat?""
""No.""
""But my stomach is hanging over the waistline. I look like Jamie Lynn Spears.""
""No, you don't.""
""I've gained so much weight, though. So I know for a fact that I'm fat.""
""Then lose it if you're so worried.""
""You think I'm fat? Bastard.""
Puppies
Anyone that has spoken to me for more than five minutes will tell you I have an unusual obsession with puppies. My fragile state has forced Jeff, on many occasions, to question whether or not I would trade him for a puppy given the opportunity. This anxiety has often been fueled by my forcing him to pant like a dog while I pet him.
Taking all of this into consideration, I begin to realize that surviving was more of a challenge for him than for me. Regardless, I like to think I played some sort of role in getting our relationship to the one-year mark.
I'd like to think it was my magnetic good looks or charismatic aura that pulled us through, but I'm pretty sure he's just attracted to naturally insane women. Either way, I'll still be on my side of the traditional shared spaghetti noodle, jelly rolls, dictionary, derangement and all.
If you'd like to wish Kiera and Jeff a happy anniversary, e-mail Kiera at wiatrak@wisc.edu to find out where they're registered.
