I do not have an amazing love story about how I mat my fiance. It's barely a love story.

A few years ago, I went to Barnes & Noble to get a Christmas present for my niece. The guy at the checkout counter was...pleasant to look at. I know, that makes me sound shallow, because I don't judge people by their looks, but...he was so pretty. Like, really pretty. Like a blond hipster Andrew Garfield. He smiled as he rang up my purchase and made a comment about loving Doctor Who. I immediately said I did too, even though the Tardis (is that what those blue things are called? I should listen to Sarah more) key-chain wasn't meant for me. I stood up straight to appear my age. I was twenty-three, but I still looked like a high-schooler, and my men's flannel shirt and horrible posture didn't help. I studied his name tag. His name was Josh, he was currently reading When the Sleeper Awakes, and his hobby was reading graphic novels (you know those tags). I paid him and left.

Over the next few weeks, I developed a new zeal for Barnes & Noble. Again, I know this gives women a bad name, but I did dress nicely and only stood in Josh's line, and didn't buy anything if he wasn't there. I expected him any day now to flirt with me, and I developed several scenarios in my head. He would ask me to stick around until the end of his shift, then he'd buy me coffee at the Starbucks section and we'd hang out outside and talk about our life's ambitions. He'd ask me to dinner and we'd go to that new Italian place, and I wouldn't like my meal and he'd give me half of his. We'd go on a walk through the park and talk about embarrassing stories from our childhood and he'd lean in and kiss me. We'd be looking through the graphic novel section on his break one day, fighting about whether Marvel or DC is the best and he'd get down on one knee and propose to me in front of the nerds reading the newest arrivals in the store. But none of these things happened.

I would buy a book that I've already read that I knew was interesting so he'd know I was cool. I loved seeing him every week. He seemed to have an endless supply of plaid shirts. He came to know that I did have a Barnes & Noble discount card, but that was it. He never recognized that I came in at least twice a week, and although he probably knew my name from the card-scanner-thingy, he never called me by it. Needless to say, he never asked me to coffee or fell in love with me. Every time I went in Barnes & Noble, I hoped my life would play out like a romantic comedy, but it never did. But I didn't give up until my third date with Zachary.

I'm marrying Zachary next Friday. My mom introduced us. He's the son of her hairdresser. I wish that he was a part of my big romantic comedy - maybe he could have been my dorky best friend who I didn't realize loved me, or a customer at Barnes & Noble who fell in love with me while I fell in love with Josh, but he's not. Zachary's just a guy I probably would've met even if my niece didn't like Doctor Who and Barnes & Noble was the only place that sold Doctor Who merchandise. And I love him.

So, maybe my life isn't a romantic comedy. Maybe it's just a realization that life isn't a movie. Who knows. I now know two things: 1) I love Zachary, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with him, and 2) I will never be a screenwriter.