Aspen dress by Jenny Packham. Begging for a glass of Champagne.

Every woman has a friend who’s obsessed with her hypothetical wedding. She knows which dress silhouettes she likes best, what kind of lace she wants on her veil, the color scheme, the kind of cake (and frosting), even the flowers she’ll pick for her bridal bouquet. Once upon a time, she probably bought bridal magazines and fantasized about walking down the aisle toward her crush du jour. These days, she has a “Wedding Ideas” Pinterest board where she collects table setting inspirations and Mason jar DIYs for use somewhere down the romantic road.

I am not “that girl.”

For years I’ve refused to contemplate my own wedding. I’ve prided myself on the practicality of not planning some pre-ordained perfect day before having a partner to share it with. I’ve mocked the girls who pin wedding photo shot lists with the caption, “Someday I’ll need this!” What if that day never comes? What will you do with all those taffeta fantasies, all that time spent dreaming of a choreographed first dance to Dead Prez’s “Mind Sex”?

So, I did the rational thing: I completely ignored the possibility of me someday getting married. And now that I’m engaged, well, it’s all a little overwhelming.

It’s not that I’m unexcited about the prospect of planning our wedding. I have bought the magazines (Timelines! Hemlines! Blue things!), started the Pinterest board, even Googled a venue or two. Hell, Tovin’s even begun commenting on statement backs and ball gowns. My problem is that in not creating even the faintest watercolor fantasy of the big day, I’ve left everything on the table. Intimate beach wedding? Grand urban affair? Rustic barn party? Sounds good.

And really, they all sort of do. Which means that no matter how things shake out, I’ll end up happy—and that this girl has her work cut out for her.

Can’t believe I didn’t think to do this earlier. Here’s the video for “Mind Sex.” (You know you wanted to see it.)