Today is my fiancé’s twenty-first birthday. It’s a little awkward being older, not by much even, but still awkward for me, the ever traditional girl I like to think I am. The man should be older, the man should be taller, he should make the first move, he should propose on one knee with the ring in a little black box, and it should all come to a wondrous conclusion (the end of singledom and beginning of married life) with me taking his last name - a dream come true!

Not really, though I wish I could say it’s so. Instead, I’ve driven myself crazy over the name changing issue, I have a promise ring in place of my real engagement ring, and I’m older than he is. Life doesn’t always give you what you want, but as the song goes, “sometimes you get what you need.”