My Problem

Ever since I was little, I had a thing for foreign guys. My love affair with worldly men can be traced back to my preschool days and "The Count" (rest in peace) from Sesame Street.  Not only did he count in that sexy Romanian accent, he was also a vampire so that made him extra exotic. Don't get me started on Scottish Scrooge McDuck from Duck Tails, he wasn't just foreign, he was powerful and swam through his money in the middle of the afternoon, how could I not be intrigued? I didn't know it back then, but now I do.  They were my earliest known crushes.
My friend tells me my multicultural background is to blame, that there must be traces of blood from my ancestors in me that long to reconnect with lovers from their homelands. Who knows? I have taken things to the next level and have gotten engaged to a foreign guy, a German, Julian. I've been together with him five years so to me, things do not feel foreign, they feel very comfortable, loving, and secure...well they did, until about six months ago when I began to feel a strange sense of panic at the thought of getting married. I was never that girl that had her wedding dress picked out in high school, in fact, for most of my life I said I had no interest in getting married at all. It wasn't until Julian and I were together about 4 years that I thought I could do it. There was pressure from my parents, (one of whom was ill) and all my friends were starting to get married, and well, we were so compatible, it all seemed to make sense. He was always a great boyfriend, caring, sweet, kind, and we used to have so much fun together. How could getting engaged change the way I felt about him? It shouldn't right? It is my own, crazy, messed up head that is creating the illusion of a problem. That is the whole point of writing this, I'm hoping if I write everyday, somehow clarity and resolve with find their way to me, and I'll know what to do.
I have left my job as a preschool teacher (a job I fell into as a result of studying creative writing--great move, I know) and I am preparing to move to Barcelona to be with him as he begins his Master's degree.
The last time we saw each other, it did not go well...and by not go well, I mean we had multiple fights and 0 sex. We said we would try living together in Barcelona, see how things go, and decide whether or not to marry. Since I do not belong to the big, border-less family of western Europe, I cannot stay longer than three months without a visa. So I have three months beginning September 17th (the day I arrive in the land of Gaudi) to decide if I want to get married or not. Shit.