I watch the woman onscreen open the little box, watch her face tauten with surprise and then melt into love and adoration. She has everything a woman is taught to want: she gets the diamond Tiffany engagement ring and the handsome man (or at least he's supposed to be) and the elegant dress and the enormous church wedding full of flowers and crying women, and someday she'll have the adorable children. Most importantly, she gets her happily ever after. Not because she's the heroine of the movie, not because she and this man are in love with each other, not because it's Hollywood—but because she's marrying a man.

Maybe I'll get married to a man someday and I'll have all of these things. I certainly want them. Maybe, because I choose to do what is expected of me and marry a man, society will reward me with all of these things.

But what if I end up with a woman? Will I get this fairytale girls have been trained to long for? Will I wear an engagement ring, or will my lover? Will we both? Will I wear the elegant wedding dress, or will she? Will we both? Will neither of us? Will we have that enormous church wedding full of flowers and crying women? Or will it be a hushed affair in a courthouse? Will there be any flowers? Will anyone cry tears of joy? Will we have children, and if we do, who will have them, I or she? Will we even get married? Most importantly, will we ever get our happily ever after?

I want one so badly. I want a diamond engagement ring. I want Jackie O's wedding dress. I want the kind of wedding that sends me into fits of hysteria over stupid things like the seating chart. I want three to five children that drive me crazy for eighteen years until they head off to college and I call them all the time and just ramble nonstop because I'm a mom and it's my job.

I want my happily ever after—and most importantly, I want to know that I will have it, regardless of whether it's with a man or a woman.