I met my fiance, Chris, in high school. We have been together four and a half years now, and our big day is June 11, 2017. I will preface this article by saying I am not always great at expressing my most sentimental thoughts; in fact, most times when people ask about Chris, the best I can manage is "He's a cool guy. I like him," with eyes trained firmly on the floor and reddening cheeks. I have started many an article on love and relationships, but always I become frozen, hands hovering over the keys, suddenly very tongue-tied and embarrassed.

By no means do I feel I am not in love nor that I am not loved. It is quite the opposite, in fact. I am at a loss for the sheer overwhelming feelings I have for Chris. I am worried that once I start, I will be unable to stop, or worse - oh god, worse - what if I tear up? Ugh, that would be so lame. So I swallow the emotions threatening to boil over and I smile and make a joke or sarcastic comment like "He'll do, I guess."

But I think I am ready, people. I have turned on my Spotify playlist entitled "Potential Wedding Songs," and "I Got You Babe" by Sonny and Cher is pulsing through my earbuds. I am going to do my best, with my mere four and a half years of experience in this field, to tell you what falling in love has been like.

First of all, at least in my experience, it is nothing like you'd imagine. There is no slow-motion eye contact, no instant connection, no swelling orchestra. In fact, I struck out about 10 times before someone finally just told Chris I was interested. And then he asked me to prom over Facebook messaging.

And guess what? When he asked me to marry him, it was raining and I just kept thinking "oh my God but I'm holding his phone and what if there is water damage because I am listening to this proposal and not paying attention to his phone's well-being? OK focus. OK wait, what is happening? OK, it's definitely a proposal. Aw, that's nice, he's sweet. But the phone! The phone will be wet and it will be my fault!"

I ended up answering his proposal with "But your phone. Take it or it will be wet."

And then I began to cry.

Another time, we were staying at a hotel in New York and I accidentally parked us around back, which was not allowed. As a consequence, there were no streetlights. He had about five pieces of luggage in his hands because he was trying to be gentlemanly. And then he slipped on a patch of ice (that we couldn't see because it was dark because I parked us in the back, remember?) and he slipped. And the luggage went everywhere and he fell like a cartoon character, flailing the whole way down. And you guys, instead of grabbing the stuff or swooping in to make sure he wasn't injured, I doubled over in one of the biggest laughing fits of my life. He was so frustrated with me because honestly, I had been very unhelpful from step one - the parking - and there I was adding insult to injury. Tears were streaming down my face and I was making that no-noise squeak that only happens when you can't breathe, and he was just glaring at me from the ground, luggage strewn about.

There was the time I had a terrible day. He knew this, and so when I Skyped him, he answered with a pair of bananas balanced on his head, framing his face like long, awkwardly shaped bangs.

Or, or, what about the way he asked me out? We were on our way home from the winter dance, and I had lost Winter Queen and he had lost Winter Prince (we are a grade apart), but it was OK. We were just on a high from spending time together all night. And he turned to me in the dark cabin of that Ford Ranger and said, "So, are we dating now or, like, do I have to ask?" I froze, pondered, sighed and said, "You have to ask." He did. It was Feb. 25, 2012, at 10:23 p.m.

I tell you these stories to make this point: falling in love is not the plot of a Disney movie. It is not a sweet serenade in a park, a "fade to black after the wedding" scene. It is bumpy, for we are only human. And I have to say, this way is so much better.

Love is not measured by the amount of cute selfies you take. It is not measured in expensive dates, extravagant gestures, or picturesque sunsets. Love is easy. Sweet. Tender. Sacrificial. Wholesome. And I am learning more and more that love is only perfect within your own frame.

What does falling in love feel like? I couldn't tell you. I don't remember the exact moment it happened. I just have this collection of small moments, held like polaroids in my hands, of trips to the zoo and slipping on ice and the way he seems to know how I am feeling simply by the position of my hands. We like to say that love is this beautiful, elusive, epic event. And in many ways it is. But this love I have found is the absolutely effortless.

It is us. We are silly and strange and ungainly. Love is not about the perfect setting and a carefully timed, precise speech. It is not about having the right words to say or putting on a facade of passion. Chris and I fell in love slowly; each day we've been together has gifted us more laughter, patience and understanding. Nowadays, we communicate through looks, weird nicknames and chasing each other through the house in socks. We show love through heating up food for one another, through time spent listening to trivialities. He surprised me last week with a flosser. Yes, a flosser. I had been saying I wanted to start flossing so I could have better teeth. And he came home from CVS, a huge grin on his face and said, "I got you a surprise!" And I have never felt more appreciated and taken care of than in that moment.

All this to say that there is no perfect person, rather a person who is perfect for us. So, here's to flossers.

I love you more, Egg.