Some people love using the word “fiancé/fiancée,” while others cringe their way through it. I’m in the latter camp.
To me, a “fiancé” is the cheesy person you end up with when you win “The Bachelor.” Or, perhaps, someone that resembles Fabio, billowing blouse included. So when I look at Chris, my dear husband-to-be, perhaps while he’s catching up on his comic book collection while watching classic wrestling clips, this phrase seems a little odd. It’s overly formal. It’s calligraphy to our Comic Sans. The filet mignon to our Fruit Loops.
