AITA for confessing I only proposed to my girlfriend to shut her up about marriage and now I want out before the wedding?
Oh, the things we do under pressure! Today's AITA story is a classic tale of miscommunication and the perilous consequences of making life-altering decisions for all the wrong reasons. We've all felt cornered, but when that corner leads to a proposal, the stakes become incredibly high, affecting not just one person but two hearts and futures. This one is a real head-scratcher.
Our submitter finds themselves in a truly sticky situation, having popped the question not out of love, but out of a desperate desire for silence. Now, with the wedding bells looming, cold feet have morphed into an arctic chill, and the truth has spilled. Was confessing his true motivations a brave, albeit brutal, act of honesty, or a cruel deception from the very beginning? Let's dive in.
"AITA for confessing I only proposed to my girlfriend to shut her up about marriage and now I want out before the wedding?"
My partner and I had been together for years, and for a good chunk of that time, marriage was a constant topic. Every family gathering, every friend's wedding, every casual conversation somehow circled back to "when are you going to propose?" I honestly wasn't ready. I loved them, sure, but the idea of forever felt… heavy. I'd try to deflect, change the subject, or just nod along, but the hints became more direct, the questions more pointed, especially from my partner. They were clearly eager, and I just couldn't bring myself to say no directly, always hoping the pressure would subside.
One evening, after another intense discussion about our future and their expectations, I just cracked. In a moment of sheer exhaustion and wanting to end the conversation, I pulled out a ring I'd bought ages ago for a different purpose and, without thinking, I asked them to marry me. The relief on their face was immediate and overwhelming. They burst into tears of joy, saying yes without hesitation. I immediately felt a wave of dread wash over me, knowing I'd made a terrible mistake.
The next few weeks were a blur of celebratory calls and planning discussions, each one making me feel worse. I kept trying to convince myself it would be okay, that maybe I'd grow into the idea, but the feeling of being trapped only intensified. I couldn't bear to keep up the charade any longer. I finally sat them down and confessed that the proposal wasn't genuine, that I had only done it to shut them up about marriage because I felt so much pressure and just wanted a moment's peace. I explained I wasn't ready then, and I'm still not ready now, and that I need to call off the wedding.
As you can imagine, they were devastated. They accused me of leading them on, of being cruel, and of wasting their time. Their family is furious, and my own family is disappointed, though they understand my honesty was important. I feel like a terrible person for the pain I've caused, but I truly believe it's better to end it now than go through with a marriage built on a lie. Am I the AITA for confessing this and wanting to back out?
This scenario is a textbook example of how a lack of direct communication can snowball into a truly painful situation. The original poster felt immense pressure, which is relatable, but chose a deeply flawed way to address it. Proposing out of a desire for peace, rather than genuine commitment, sets a relationship on a very shaky foundation from the start.
From the partner's perspective, this is a monumental betrayal. They likely invested years into the relationship, building dreams and expectations around a shared future. To have those hopes confirmed with a proposal, only to have it cruelly revoked with the admission of manipulation, would be utterly devastating and profoundly disrespectful to their feelings and time.
The poster's confession, while brutally honest, comes far too late. It demonstrates a fundamental failure to communicate their true feelings and boundaries much earlier in the relationship. While it's commendable they eventually realized they couldn't go through with the charade, the damage done by the initial deception is immense and arguably worse than if they had simply said "no" to the idea of marriage when it first came up.
Ultimately, there are no winners here. The poster feels guilt and regret, and the partner is left with heartbreak and a shattered trust. This whole situation underscores the critical importance of open, honest conversations about relationship milestones, even when they're difficult. Avoiding discomfort often leads to much greater pain down the line.
The Internet Weighs In: Was His Confession Brutal Honesty or Pure Betrayal?
The comment section for this post was, predictably, a whirlwind of strong opinions. The overwhelming sentiment leaned towards the original poster being the undeniable "A" in this situation. Many users highlighted the sheer cruelty of proposing under false pretenses, emphasizing that it's not just about a broken engagement, but a profound breach of trust and emotional manipulation over a significant period.
However, a few voices did acknowledge the immense pressure the original poster must have felt, without excusing their actions. They pointed out that while the execution was terrible, the eventual honesty, albeit late, prevented a potentially disastrous and unhappy marriage. This nuanced view tried to balance the impact on the partner with the OP's own struggle, although most still agreed that the partner deserved better.
This AITA story serves as a stark reminder of the importance of honesty, especially in our most intimate relationships. While it's understandable to feel cornered by societal or partner expectations, a proposal should always stem from genuine love and a mutual desire for commitment, not a desperate attempt to avoid an uncomfortable conversation. The pain caused by this deception is undeniable, highlighting that difficult truths, when delivered early and kindly, are always preferable to a lie that eventually shatters trust and hearts. Let this be a lesson to us all: communicate your true feelings, always.
