In the small town where I was raised, if you didn't have a useless maiden name and a carseat by 25, you were destined to die tragically alone. 23 is hardly old enough to know what I what to spend the rest of my life doing, but I do know who I want to spend the rest of my life doing ______ with. My name is Katie, and I am an almost-fiancé. So close that I can smell the cakes I will be sampling. So close that every time he bends down to tie his shoe, I assume he's going to pull a ring out of his sock. I was supposed to be a real-life, living and breathing fiancé by now (in my mind), but then my car blew up and we had to by a Jeep instead of an engagement ring because SAFETY TRUMPS PROPOSAL in the game of Priorities. I have been to an exceptional amount of weddings of late; all around my age, all very much in love. This wave of ceremonies has given me a wedding fever I cannot sweat out. These ramblings are my way of getting out all of the excitement (and sharing it with other wanna-be wives), so that it doesn't all bubble out of me at home and ultimately run off my poor almost-fiance. Feel free to contribute your thoughts in order to save your relationship, too.