A monthsary is the same day of the month as the day you got together, every month. It is a small thing, and that is exactly why it works at a distance. An anniversary comes round once a year. A monthsary comes round twelve times, and a long distance relationship runs on small things that come round often.
If you started on the 4th of April, the 4th of every month is yours. The word comes from Philippine English, and you will also see monthiversary, monthversary and mensiversary, which all mean the same thing. Plenty of couples count them through the first year and then switch to years. Plenty never stop. Neither is wrong, as long as you both know which kind you are.
This is the one real question, and most answers get it wrong. A month without a 31st still gets a monthsary: it moves to that month's last day. So the 30th in April, June, September and November, and the 28th of February, or the 29th in a leap year. The same goes for the 29th and 30th in February.
It does not slide to the 1st of the next month. If it did, February would have no monthsary at all and March would have two, which is a strange way to reward somebody for surviving February.
Your monthsary is on your calendar and theirs is on theirs, so for part of the day one of you is having it and the other is not. Two ways to handle it:
The trick is to pick one and repeat it, not to invent something new each time. A ritual that happens every month is worth more than a big plan that happens twice.
A monthsary message does not need to be long, and it should not sound like a greeting card. One specific thing from this month beats any sentence about forever. For example:
Write your own. They can tell.
For a longer one, there is a whole page on what to write in a love letter when you are far apart. And if you want it to arrive as something, this one opens into flowers, with your song ready to play while they read. It is free, and it gets there tonight, which for a monthsary you remembered at 11pm is the main thing.
For one of the milestone months, the same page makes a book: your story, your photos, your firsts and the reasons, 24 pages they turn with a finger. Give it the day it started and the cover counts the months for you, with a page for the day ringed on its calendar and the moon that night. It saves as a PDF to print, so the twelfth can be something they hold.
Each of you types the day it started, without saying it to the other first. If they match, that is your day. The tree of everything you have done together has a heart in the middle with the number of months inside it, and a ring of twelve marks around it that fill one per month, the current one filling a little every day. A full year leaves a thin gold ring outside and the twelve start again, the way a tree counts its years. On the day itself, it says so when you open it.
Two Houses, One Home is a free app for two people who are not in the same place: two houses across a valley, one each, and everything you do together builds the bridge between them.
Open the app