I Don’t Know About You, But I’m Feeling 42

It’s a very special occasion for you and me, dear reader. That’s right; we met exactly 42 issues ago. Some couples can only dream of reaching the big 4-2, but look at us now.

I still remember the day you first laid eyes on my page. I told you I liked your shirt, and compared small talk to scooping my eyes out with a spoon. You didn’t say anything, now that I think about it, but you didn’t have to. I already felt in my bones that this was something special.

For the next few issues, we tested the waters. You met my dog. I showed you around town. We spent the holidays together. I brought you on a really awkward OK Cupid date. In hindsight, you being there probably didn’t help.

By issue 7, things started getting serious. You came over more often. We assembled those awful TV cabinets and ate way too much of that off-brand cereal. You were there for the first and only time I cared about trains. You were there for the most boring day of my life. You weren’t there when I dressed like Elvis, but that’s not your fault.

Ah, and then we celebrated issue 13, our first true milestone. By the way, I found out later that was also exactly one year after we met. How crazy is that?

The next 10 issues are kind of a blur. We endured three weeks without A/C, ate rancid pistachios, and had a real close call with a diaper. You met my roommates, the hideous roaches that lived in my walls. You met my dog… again. I guess I forgot we already did that.

It was around this time that I met the man who would become my husband. I wasn’t sure how to break the news to you, so I decided that I’d convince you to break up with me instead. I wrote death threats to plants, showed you my infected tooth, and even briefly became an AI in an attempt to deter you. But you were just too obsessed to let me go on your own, so for issue 25, I caved and wrote the most I-have-a-boyfriend entry I could think of.

Even then, you stuck around, and I finally realized that this was more of a platonic thing for you anyway. All’s well that ends well, I guess. We took exactly one shower together before things got too weird, then we did a bunch of just-friends stuff for a while. We went to Costco, did some laundry, went to a hockey game. We repainted my house, ate sour candies, got a gym membership.

It feels like just yesterday that issue 37 came out, where I told you all about my upcoming wedding but specifically didn’t invite you. Maybe that was petty. I just wanted you to remember what we had, to recapture the spark we both felt no less than 36 issues ago.

On some level, I believe I succeeded, dear reader, because issue 38 is where we hit our stride. I’m as funny as ever, if I do say so myself, and our relationship is as intimately one-sided as ever. I’ve always loved that about us.

The number 42 has a way of bringing you back to your roots. The reason I write Rhetoric, issue in and issue out, is purely for the chance to make you smile (and also because they pay me). You have enabled me to make part of my living out of making fun of my life and of this area. Thank you, truly, for being my reader.