The thing is, I am certain I want to marry him. Now. Maybe in a few decades, I’ll change my mind. The fact that I have that choice is comforting. I like that it feels like we made this decision together, as opposed to marriage being a thing I said yes to because my vagina made me. Even though I had never dreamed of the moment someone would ask me to marry him, I have proven to be the girl who gets giddy when a man is on one knee as tourists squeal in the background. Who would have guessed that I’m the basic bitch who can’t stop staring at her ring? I never dreamed of my own wedding but I assumed that if I ever did it, I’d be the chill bride who just went to City Hall rocking a white suit and sneakers, then go for Thai food with a handful of friends afterwards. Turns out, I’m the bride who can’t get her guest list down to 120 and who went to Kleinfeld to get her extravagant dress (I even squealed, “I’m saying YES TO THE DRESS!” with vigor). I hate wedding planning, but I also love complaining about how much I hate wedding planning. And, honestly, I can’t wait for my wedding day. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but I think I secretly like being a fiancé. Shudder.