Anyway, I haven’t actually been counting the days since we got hitched, in case you're wondering (the only thing I've ever tried to count in our marriage is the number of places we've done it--I'm sure some day our kids will be so proud) but I did do something just as embarrassing – I Googlebated (yes, I am going to keep trying to make "Googlebate" happen – SHUT UP, IT'S GOING TO HAPPEN!!!!), which led me to our wedding webpage on The Knot.
It's funny – if I hadn't stumbled across the page on what happened to be our 998th day of wedded bliss, I never would have known. But since I did know, I insisted that we celebrate this numerically impressive but otherwise meaningless milestone.
It was kind of a disaster.
Jeff and I have plenty of romantic moments during the course of normal everyday life, but when we make an effort to be romantic the pressure tends to jinx us. In this particular case, Jeff had a bad day and was feeling depressed, but wanted to go out to dinner to make me happy. Unfortunately dining with a miserable person wasn’t really doing it for me. I won’t go into details, since Jeff suffers enough of his personal life being aired on the blog, and since any recount of a fight would be one-sided and unfair, but suffice to say our 999th day was not our finest.
It happens. Every now and then we fall apart. (I blame the total eclipse of the heart. And maybe also the rain that was falling, falling.) But that’s marriage. That’s love. Boning across continents is all well and good, but real love means figuring out how to fight without hurting each other, and how to reconcile without sacrificing your voice. (Also how to Photoshop your heads onto other people's bodies as a public demonstration of affection.)
Yes, you know it's true -- ooh ooh ooh, I love you.
As for the 1,000th blog post thing – to be honest, I don't know when I hit 1,000 posts. Right now my Blogger dashboard count says 993, but I've deleted at least a dozen posts since I started the blog... mainly thanks to the CEO of a company I formerly worked for.
It began in August of 2008. One day, the actor Verne Troyer (who, apparently, was BFF with the CEO) toured our offices in a tiny motorized chair. I blogged something to the effect of "OMG, Mini-Me was in the office today. He creeps me out. But I don't hate little people or anything. If given the chance I would be all up on Peter Dinklage." Granted, not my best work, but, I thought, pretty harmless. I never revealed the name of the company I worked for, so as far as my readers were concerned, "the office" was generic.
A week later my boss called me in. The CEO had seen the blog and was not happy. At that point I had maybe 80 readers, so either Verne Troyer has a Google alert on his own name* (hi, Verne!) or one of my co-workers ratted me out.
*Auto-Googlebation! I will coin this term yet!
I didn't get fired, but from that point on the CEO was wary of me and my wanton blogging ways. A year later, when I got the opportunity to blog for The Huffington Post, he tried to forbid it. I fought back, and he finally decided to consider it, but only after reviewing my blog. He asked for the link, and I frantically pored over my entries from recent months, deleting posts that I thought could offend him or change his mind in any way. Most of the stuff I got rid of was political – this was right around the Sotomayor nomination and I was fired up – but I also trashed some funny posts that lampooned women's magazines or fashion brands (I worked for a magazine, and if I had been caught making fun of any of our advertisers I would have been in deep shit). I wish I had the forethought to save that writing, but I was nervous and frantic and so I didn't.
Which is all a very long way of saying that I passed 1,000 posts without knowing it. On the one hand it's disappointing, like missing the moment when the odometer on an old car ticks over to 100,000. But then again, much like the 1,000th day of a marriage (or even like an old car), it's a very small step on a much bigger journey. It's kind of like an unexpected scenic overlook on the side of a long highway: You take a minute to pull over, exhale, and take in the view.
Then you get back on the road.