Roy and I have officially been engaged for a month.

While I certainly don’t plan on turning this blog into a wedding blog, I figured I might share some of the very unexpected feelings that have cropped up since I said, “Shut up.”

I’m scared of getting married.

I’m not scared of being married.  I can’t wait to be Mrs. Schwartz.  I’m just really uncomfortable with the idea of a wedding.

That’s weird, right?

I feel like a freak of bridal nature.  Like there’s a gene every other girl got, where they spent their childhoods marrying off their Barbies and wearing slips on their head to promise to love, honor, and cherish their stuffed mongoose.  But I didn’t.  It didn’t even cross my mind as a kid that marriage was a life goal.

Maybe that’s because my parents got married in a no-frills office ceremony after work one day, and then proceeded to go out to dinner.  It worked. They’re still married.  I guess, I’ve never really romanticized the idea of a wedding.

So, when scoping out banquet halls or wedding dresses, all I can think is “You want me to pay how much?  For a party?”   I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m not a particularly frugal person, but the idea of dropping a year’s salary for many people on a party just doesn’t make sense to me.

And yet, there’s this feeling like this is what you have to do.

I’m not so sure.  I’m really hoping we can find a happy medium between The Fella’s and my parents’ desire for a “real” wedding and my desire to just get it over with and get on to the whole being married part.

The good news is that Roy is basically my happy opposite in all things life-related.  Where I get tense about every little thing, he takes things in stride.  Where I keep all of our bills in a color-coded binder and adhere to a strict excel budget, he has no idea why I tell him to deposit certain amounts in our joint account each month—but he gladly obliges to my calculations.  Where I can drink my weight in whiskey, he’d rather stick with pineapple juice on the rocks. Where I hate parties, he can’t wait to get dressed up and talk to strangers.

I’m incredibly thankful that he’s taking the lead on all things Soon-to-be-Schwartz.  He met with the rabbi to decide on a date, has set dates to look at venues, and even set me up with a dress appointment.  He understands that we live in New York City and therefore even “cheap” weddings are overpriced, and that it is all worth it because we will have memories that will last far longer than the debt acquired to create them.

I’m trying to get to that place, where it isn’t about how much everything costs, and is about us.  I’m trying not to feel uncomfortable about the fact that I will have to be the center of attention for one whole day, or that the people in our lives may actually want to be there to see this thing happen and not just consider us an annoyance for infringing on a Sunday they could otherwise be watching television.

I’ve discovered that I can handle one tiny decision at a time.  Do we want an engagement party? No. Do I want to wear TOMs under my dress instead of heals? Yes.  Do we want a wedding planner to do the whole thing so I don’t have to?  Absolutely, anyone know a good wedding planner?

I’m kind of feeling like I’m getting a big stinkin’ F when it comes to being a bride.  Any married folks out there have advice for an overwhelmed blogger?