Anniversaries, War Zones, & Skype Sex

Three words I never thought would go together: anniversaries, war zones, and Skype sex. I’d spent the most of my early 20’s avoiding all three of them, but basic social psychology will always tell you that the things you want least will be what you end up having. Bite me, Freud.

“So, what are you two crazy love birds going to do for your anniversary?” It was the first thing my cousin had responded when I casually mentioned to her that it was my and K’s anniversary this week. I rolled my eyes at the response, my fingers flying across the keyboard to remind her, yet again, that he was deployed.

“Skype sex. It’s a thing. People pay big money for it.”

I was shocked. Appalled. And utterly embarrassed at the thought of it. I can barely take my clothes off for him in person, much less over a camera that basically anyone with remotely intelligent hacking skills could access. But then it got me thinking: how do people celebrate anniversaries from far away?

I’ve compiled a list of things I could potentially do on my first anniversary without him:

• Sit alone in the dark and cry;
• Watch “soldiers coming home” videos and cry;
• Go through pictures from our DisneyWorld trip and cry;
• Re-read old text messages and cry;
• Get drunk and cry;
• Get drunk, send him drunk SnapChats, and cry;
• Or spend the entire day sad-cleaning my entire apartment and cry.

I’m clearly prepared for this day to come. Nevertheless, I spent the previous weekend stockpiling tissues — just in case. But truth be told, I didn’t want to do any of that. So I turned to reliable, valid, and totally smart resources on how to handle an anniversary long distance: my friends.

These were their suggestions:

• Get drunk (but don’t cry).

Maybe they weren’t the greatest to ask for advice.

So here I am: lost, confused, and probably a little too sad. To eloquently put it, it sucks to not have your loved one with you during a celebration like an anniversary. In the time we’ve been together, he has missed Christmas, Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day, my birthday, and now our anniversary as well as this year’s Christmas and Thanksgiving. It’s not easy to pretend that it’s okay he’s gone, because let’s face it: it’s not okay. It will probably never be okay, and the best part (and the most important) is that it’s okay to not be okay.

So cry your heart out. Mope in bed all day if you want. Sit in the dark and stew in your dirty pajamas. Eat your weight in ice cream. Write him a letter, an email, a text, a Tweet. If you can, have your entire anniversary date over the phone. Tell him how much you miss him, how much you love him, and how excited you are to see him again. Let the distance hurt and feel it hurt. It’s a special day for both of you and distance is the ultimate cockblock — but don’t let it win. It’s still your day. Do what you want to do but never, ever forget that he’ll be coming home soon. So while you’re crying today, you have to stop tomorrow. He’s over there fighting for you, so you should be fighting for him too.

As for me? I’ll probably get drunk. I’ll definitely post a sappy caption under a cutesy-gross picture of us on Instagram. I’ll send him a long winded message telling him how much I love him and how much I miss him. I’ll ask him to call, knowing fully well that if he could, he would. I’ll gather my best girlfriends and we’ll go eat my and K’s favorite food in town. Then we’ll eat our weight in ice cream, and I’ll spend the entire night talking about all the wonderful, amazing, annoying things K has done for me so far. When the night is over, I’ll watch “soldiers coming home videos” and cry.

And when he finally comes home, I’ll tell him all about how I celebrated our anniversary for the both of us without Skype sex.