A few weeks ago, I got engaged.
I know, I know… “hooray for me!”
Cue the questions: When’s the date? How many carats is it? Can I come? Have you been dress shopping yet? Can I come dress shopping?
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I am flattered, but the thing about the new shiny ring on my finger is that I have never really thought about having one.
Marriage was just never a goal of mine.
To me, engagement means commitment and considering that I have been washing this blokes’ underwear for years (and last week we BOTH had gastro), I figure that I am already pretty damn committed.
Don’t get me wrong, I am excited, and the engagement celebrations have been exhilarating (sorry liver), but now that I have taken the time to stop and process what’s ahead of me, I realise that... I'm scared of the next step.
I’m not scared of being with my partner forever (I actually assumed that was happening anyway).
I’m not scared of people judging me on a white dress as I walk down the aisle.
I'm scared because I am 33 years old, and I have Peter Pan syndrome. I am terrified of ‘growing up’.
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I’ve always been a little rogue.
My dad still refers to me as the ‘wild stallion’ and I only realised when I got engaged that he called me this because I: