One of my strangest and most irrational fears growing up was to be that woman who would receive an engagement ring, but never a marriage.

You know the story: boy meets girl, boy asks girl to marry him, 20 odd years pass … still no marriage.

I see it on TV and in real life all the time, some of these people even raise children together and send them off to college without ever truly “sealing the deal” or “tying the knot.”

The engagement stage is like being 20 years old — this weird, limbo-esque stage in your life where you’ve taken a huge step towards adulthood and yet nothing’s happening. It’s like everything is different and yet everything is the same.

During an engagement, all sorts of emotions are afloat: some people are ecstatic, some are terrified after the initial euphoria wears off, some are indifferent. For a lot of people, an engagement is something that occurs because it’s “time” to do so. If I were a girl who knew that my significant other only proposed because it was “time” to do so, I would not be happy at all.

I feel that if someone wants to marry me, they need to want to instead of feeling obligated by society to get hitched.

Maybe that’s why so many men propose to their lady friends and end up just being engaged for decades.

This must be the way I feel. I know plenty of girls who got engaged and are well on their way to having their weddings. I, however, haven’t done any wedding planning and I’ve been engaged for two months.

The neurotic, irrational side of me is saying that I need to start planning if I ever want to be a Mrs. but I’m just too lazy to pick out the little nitpicky details and truth be told, I don’t want a wedding.

But what would happen if I did become one of those women who never get married but will have a huge rock on their left hand? That would be torture for me. I’m the type of gal that needs things set in stone, if you get my drift.

I have been watching “Say Yes to the Dress” obsessively. I think I’ve exhausted every single episode on Netflix.

Aside from obsessive TV watching, I have been sitting on my butt every day as opposed to working out and trying to look perfect for my wedding. I wouldn’t say I’m not the marrying type, I totally am, maybe I’m just not the type to want a wedding.

I just want a big party with a burrito bar and a lot of popcorn. Boxed wine and cheap beer will also flow at this party.

If all else fails, I am enough of a crazy animal lover that I will never be lonely. I will be surrounded by 86 cats that will probably eat my face when I die because nobody will have noticed.

No, no, no, no. I can’t have these kind of thoughts. I’m already awkward and strange enough as it is, if I became a crazy cat lady I’d be fulfilling some kind of faux-prophecy.

I found a man who had enough courage and clout to ask me to marry him; despite my lack of Kool-Aid-making abilities and complete obliviousness regarding the word “dive-bomb” (I said bomb-dive for a very long time before someone corrected me).

And if I can charm someone enough to make them want to spend the rest of their life with me, then there is hope for all the currently single, socially-awkward babes out there.