I love fairytales. I want a fairytale. I want Prince Charming to find me, romance me with all he's got and propose — and trust me, I won't refuse. (Especially if he looks like a younger Brad Pitt or a gorgeous George Clooney.)

I believe that when you marry, it's forever. It's death do you part. I watched my mother uphold that vow for years while my father died slowly from Alzheimer's disease. And 20 years later, she's still faithful. She never even dated.

That, to me, is marriage.

I suppose that's why I never married in the first place, come to think of it. I didn't want to be stuck forever unless it was Brad Pitt. Make sense?

There's also the fact that in Quebec, about 70% of the population don't marry and live in common-law relationships. When a large group of people who share a culture don't believe in marriage, it's tough to be the outcast and convince your partner marriage is a good thing.

But I did dream about marriage. I wanted the ring. I wanted the white dress, and I wanted it from the beautiful tiny little wedding shop near Parliament Hills in Ottawa.

I'd walked past the store after closing time one evening, and the window had soft lighting on a beautiful, one-of-a-kind handmade medieval dress that had a circle of satin roses around the waist. It was $5,000. I fell in love.

I wanted a church wedding, because I was raised somewhat Catholic and thought that Catholic churches were gloriously magnificent and beautiful. (And because of that death-do-you-part thing I was talking about.)

Then I wanted a barbecue in my back yard. Cheap, easy, and fast. I wanted beer and music. I wanted to ditch the dress and have a party with people I liked.

End of story. That was it. No reception, no horse-drawn carriage, no petal-strewn walkways...just a ring, a dress, a church, and hamburgers. No marriage and no Brad Pitt, either. Oh well. I can still dream about it!