I (28F) am sitting in my car outside my apartment right now because I can’t face going inside and dealing with my boyfriend, and I need to know if what I did last night makes me a complete asshole or if I’m finally standing up for myself.
Background: I’ve been with Ryan (31M) for three years. He’s generally a good guy—supportive, funny, we have great chemistry. But there’s this one thing that’s been eating at me for our entire relationship: his friends.
Ryan has this tight group of buddies from college. They see each other at least twice a month—game nights, barbecues, fantasy football draft parties, whatever. And from the very beginning, they’ve made comments about my body.
I’m a size 14. I’m 5’6″, I weigh around 170 pounds, and I’m… fine with my body? Like, I’m not a supermodel, but I’m healthy, I work out a few times a week, and I feel pretty good about myself most days. Or at least, I did before I started dating Ryan.
The comments started small. The first time I met his friends—about two months into our relationship—one of them (let’s call him Derek) looked me up and down and said to Ryan, “Glad to see you’re dating someone who actually eats. Your ex was a twig.”
I laughed it off at the time. It felt like maybe a compliment? But it was weird.
Then at the next gathering, Derek made a joke about me “having more to love” and grabbed my hip while we were all standing around the grill. I physically moved away from him, but Ryan didn’t say anything.
Over the past three years, it’s escalated. Not constantly, but enough that I dread going to these hangouts. Comments like:
- “Ryan better keep you fed or you might eat him!” (said while I was literally just eating a burger at a cookout)
- “She’s got that mom bod already, bro. Lock it down before she gets bigger!” (said when Ryan and I announced we moved in together)
- “Ryan’s playing offense and defense now—gotta work twice as hard!” (I still don’t fully understand this one but it was said while gesturing at my body)
- “Is that your second plate? Good for you, don’t be shy!” (it was my first plate, I’d just gotten there)
And it’s not just Derek. It’s three out of the five guys in the group. They think they’re hilarious. They slap each other on the back and crack up. Ryan laughs too, or at minimum he doesn’t say anything.
Every. Single. Time. I’ve brought it up to Ryan, he says the same things:
“They’re just joking around.” “That’s just how guys talk.” “You’re being too sensitive.” “They don’t mean anything by it.” “You’re overreacting.”
That last one—”overreacting”—is his favorite. I’ve heard it at least a dozen times over three years.
Six months ago, I told him I didn’t want to go to his friends’ events anymore. He was upset. Said I was being dramatic, that I was going to make things weird in the group, that I was isolating him from his friends.
We compromised. I’d go to the “important” events—birthdays, holidays, big games—but I could skip the random hangouts.
Okay, so that brings us to last night.
Last night was Derek’s 32nd birthday party at his house. I didn’t want to go, but Ryan begged me. Said it would look bad if I didn’t show up to Derek’s birthday after Derek came to Ryan’s birthday last month.
So I went. I wore jeans and a nice top, did my makeup, tried to psych myself up in the car. “It’s just a few hours. You can do this.”
We got there around 7 PM. The usual crew was there—Derek, his wife Melissa, the other guys and their girlfriends/wives. Derek’s parents were also there, which was new. Apparently they were in town visiting and wanted to celebrate with him.
Things were fine at first. I hung out with Melissa and the other women in the kitchen while the guys stood around the living room watching basketball. Normal.
Then we all sat down for dinner. Derek’s mom had cooked this huge spread—pot roast, mashed potatoes, three different sides, rolls, the works. It was honestly really nice.
I served myself a normal amount of food. Like, a reasonable plate. One piece of pot roast, some potatoes, some green beans, a roll.
As I sat down, Derek looked at my plate and goes, “Wow, showing restraint tonight! Ryan, did you tell her we were taking pictures later?”
The table got quiet for a second, then Derek and two of the other guys laughed. Ryan smiled uncomfortably but didn’t say anything.
I felt my face get hot, but I didn’t respond. I just started eating.
A few minutes later, Derek’s friend Marcus said, “Don’t worry, there’s plenty more food. You don’t have to hold back on our account.”
More laughter from the guys.
I put my fork down. Looked at Ryan. He was looking at his plate, avoiding eye contact.
Derek’s mom, who was sitting across from me, looked confused. “Is something funny?” she asked.
“Nothing, Mom,” Derek said, waving her off. “Just guy talk.”
“Guy talk about what?” she pressed.
Nobody answered.
We kept eating, and I thought maybe that was it. Maybe they’d gotten it out of their system.
Then dessert came out. Derek’s wife had made this beautiful chocolate cake. She cut slices and started passing them around.
When she handed me a piece, Derek goes, “Better give her a big slice, babe. That’s a compliment, by the way!” Then he looked at me and added, “Ryan’s lucky you’re low-maintenance. Some girls would be high-maintenance about their weight, but you just roll with it. No pun intended.”
He literally said “no pun intended” after making a fat joke.
The guys laughed again. One of them—I don’t even remember who—said something like, “She’s got thick skin!” and they all died laughing.
And that’s when something in me just… snapped.
I stood up.
“Can I say something?” I asked loudly enough that everyone stopped talking.
Ryan’s eyes went wide. “Babe—”
“No, I want to say something.” I looked around the table. “I just want to make sure I understand the joke, because I’ve been hearing variations of it for three years now and I want to be clear on what’s so funny.”
Derek looked uncomfortable. “It’s not that serious—”
“The joke is that I’m fat, right?” I said. “That’s the punchline. I’m bigger than you think I should be, and that’s inherently funny to you guys. My body existing in a size you don’t prefer is comedy gold.”
“Jesus, we’re just joking around,” Marcus said.
“Right, joking. So let me try one.” I looked at Derek. “Hey Derek, I noticed you’re losing your hair pretty aggressively. Should we start calling you Friar Tuck? Oh wait, that’s not funny when it’s about YOU, is it?”
His hand went to his head instinctively. His wife looked shocked.
I turned to Marcus. “Marcus, how’s that erectile dysfunction going? You mentioned it to Ryan last month when you were complaining about your doctor. That’s hilarious, right? Should we all make jokes about that over dinner?”
Marcus’s face went bright red. “What the fuck—”
“Oh, I’m sorry, is it NOT funny when someone repeatedly comments on your physical insecurities in front of a group? Weird! Because I’ve been told for THREE YEARS that I’m overreacting when you guys do it to me.”
Ryan stood up. “Okay, that’s enough—”
“No, Ryan, it’s not enough. Because here’s what I’m realizing: you all think it’s fine to make jokes about my body because you don’t see me as a full person. You see me as Ryan’s girlfriend, and my body is fair game for commentary because I’m just an accessory to him. But the SECOND I turn it around on you, suddenly it’s too far. Suddenly I’m the asshole.”
Derek’s mom was staring at her son. “You’ve been making comments about her weight?”
“Not like—it wasn’t mean, we were just—” Derek stammered.
“For three years,” I said, looking at her. “Every time I see your son and his friends, they make jokes about my body. About how much I eat. About my size. And every time I tell Ryan it bothers me, he tells me I’m overreacting and being too sensitive.”
Derek’s dad put his fork down. “That’s not acceptable, Derek.”
“Dad, she’s being dramatic—”
“Am I?” I pulled out my phone. “Because I started recording the last few gatherings. Not video, just audio, because I knew Ryan would never believe me about how bad it actually was. Want me to play it back?”
I didn’t actually have recordings. I was bluffing. But the looks on their faces told me everything I needed to know.
Ryan looked like he’d been slapped. “You’ve been recording us?”
“I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO,” I said, my voice breaking. “I should be able to come to your friends’ houses and not be treated like a punchline. I should be able to eat dinner without commentary. I should be able to exist in my body without a panel of judges giving their feedback.”
I grabbed my purse. “I’m leaving. Ryan, you can get a ride home with one of your hilarious friends.”
And I walked out.
Ryan didn’t come home last night. He texted me around midnight saying he was staying at Marcus’s place because he needed “space to think.”
This morning, I’ve gotten texts from three people:
- Melissa (Derek’s wife) saying she had no idea it had been that bad and she’s sorry she didn’t say something sooner. She said Derek’s parents ripped into him after I left and the party basically ended right after.
- One of the other girlfriends saying “that was badass” and that she’s been uncomfortable with the group dynamic for a while too.
- Ryan, saying I “humiliated him in front of his friends and their families” and that I “went way too far” and that I’m “being manipulative by lying about having recordings.”
I don’t even know what to say back to him.
My best friend says I’m a hero and should dump Ryan immediately. My sister says I was justified but maybe I should have handled it privately instead of making a scene.
My mom—who struggles with her weight and has her whole life—called me this morning crying and said she was proud of me for standing up for myself in a way she never could.
But I’m sitting here feeling like absolute shit. Because I DO feel bad about the erectile dysfunction comment—that was private medical information Ryan told me in confidence, and I weaponized it. That wasn’t okay.
And I lied about having recordings, which I guess is manipulative? Though I was just trying to make them realize how bad their behavior actually was.
And I did humiliate Derek in front of his parents on his birthday. That was harsh.
But also… I’m so tired. I’m so fucking tired of being the butt of the joke. I’m tired of being told I’m overreacting when I express hurt. I’m tired of my boyfriend choosing his friends’ comfort over mine.
I don’t know if Ryan’s coming back. I don’t know if I want him to come back.
Did I go too far? Or is this what standing up for yourself looks like when you’ve been pushed down for three years?
EDIT: A lot of people are asking why I stayed with Ryan for three years if this was happening the whole time. That’s a fair question. Honestly, it’s because outside of his friends, Ryan is great. He’s kind, supportive, we have the same values, we were talking about getting engaged. And the friend hangouts were only twice a month—it felt manageable to just grit my teeth through them. But reading these comments is making me realize that “great except for how he lets his friends treat you” isn’t actually great at all.
EDIT 2: Ryan just texted asking if we can talk tonight. I don’t know what I’m going to say.
EDIT 3: For everyone saying I shouldn’t have brought up Marcus’s ED—you’re right. That was private medical information and I shouldn’t have used it as a weapon. I’m going to apologize to Marcus for that specifically. But I’m not apologizing for calling out the pattern of behavior.
EDIT 4: Derek’s mom just called me. She apologized for her son’s behavior and said she’s “horrified” at how he’s been treating me. She said she raised him better than that and that if I’d like to talk, she’s here. I don’t even know what to do with that information.
