I never thought I’d be that girl obsessively refreshing engagement announcement posts at midnight, but here we are.
I’m (29F) and I’ve been with my boyfriend Jake (31M) for almost six years now. Six years. We met when I was 23, fresh out of college and working my first real job as a graphic designer in Austin. He was this charming software engineer who made me laugh until my stomach hurt, and I genuinely thought I’d found my person. For the first couple years, everything felt easy and right. We moved in together after year two, adopted a dog, merged our friend groups—all the things you do when you’re building a life with someone.
But somewhere around year four, I started noticing this pattern. Whenever I’d bring up our future—like, our actual future beyond next weekend’s brunch plans—Jake would get this look on his face. You know the one. Kind of like a deer in headlights mixed with someone who just remembered they left the stove on. And then he’d pivot.
The first time I really noticed it was at my cousin’s wedding in spring 2022. We were slow dancing, and I was feeling romantic and stupid, and I said something like, “I can’t wait until it’s our turn someday.” Nothing crazy, just… a comment. He literally stopped swaying, gave this weird half-laugh, and said, “Let’s just enjoy tonight, babe.” Then he went to get another drink and somehow we ended up talking about whether we should refinish our coffee table for the next twenty minutes.
I told myself he was probably just overwhelmed by the wedding itself. Some people get weird at weddings, right?
But then it kept happening. Every few months I’d try to have The Conversation, and every time it was like talking to a wall made of Jell-O. Slippery, noncommittal, impossible to pin down.
Last fall, my best friend Emma got engaged after dating her boyfriend for like three years. Three. And I was so happy for her, I really was, but I also spent that entire night crying in our bathroom while Jake played video games in the living room, completely oblivious. When I finally came out, eyes all puffy, he asked if I was okay and I said, “Do you ever think about marrying me?”
He froze. Just completely froze with his controller in his hands. Then he said, “Of course I do. I just… I’m not ready yet, okay? Why do we have to put a timeline on everything?”
“Jake, it’s been five years.”
“I know how long it’s been,” he snapped. Then he got up and went to bed. We didn’t talk about it for another three months.
Here’s the thing that’s been making me feel absolutely insane: Jake is ready for literally everything else. He’s ready to plan elaborate trips to Japan. He’s ready to talk about buying a house “someday.” He’s ready to discuss what kind of car he wants next. But marriage? Starting a family? Suddenly he needs more time, more space, more… something.
I’ve tried everything. I’ve been patient—God knows I’ve been patient. I’ve tried the direct approach: “I need to know if marriage is something you want with me.” His answer? “Eventually, yeah, I think so.” Eventually. I think so. Like I’m asking him if he wants to try that new Thai place down the street, not if he wants to build a life together.
I’ve tried the casual approach, dropping hints, showing him funny videos about proposals, laughing about how all our friends are getting engaged. He just scrolls past it or changes the subject to work drama or something about the dog.
And I’ve definitely tried the emotional approach, which I’m not proud of, but whatever. A few months ago I broke down and told him I was scared. I told him I’m almost 30, that I want kids someday, that I need to know if we’re on the same page because my timeline actually matters biologically and I can’t just wait around forever.
You know what he said? He said I was “putting too much pressure” on him and that talking about it was “killing the romance.” Like… what? How is wanting to marry someone after six years killing the romance? Isn’t marriage supposed to BE romantic?
My mom keeps asking me when Jake’s going to propose. My younger sister just got engaged to a guy she’s been dating for two years. TWO YEARS. And she’s 26. I’m sitting at family dinners listening to everyone gush about venues and dresses while Jake squirms next to me and changes the subject to literally anything else. It’s humiliating.
But here’s where it gets really bad. Last week was my 29th birthday. Jake took me to this beautiful restaurant downtown, the kind with a prix fixe menu and a wine list thicker than a phone book. It was lovely. And I kept thinking, “This is it. This is when he’s going to do it.” Because why else would he make such a big deal out of dinner?
Dessert came. No ring. The bill came. No ring. We walked to the car. No ring.
And I felt so stupid for even expecting it, but I couldn’t help myself. In the car on the way home, I said, “That was really nice, thank you.” And then I just… I couldn’t stop myself. “Jake, where do you see us in five years?”
He was quiet for a long time. Then he said, “I don’t know. Why does everything have to be some big plan with you?”
“Because I’ve given you six years of my life,” I said, and I could hear my voice shaking. “Because I’m 29 and I want to get married and have kids and I need to know if that’s something you actually want or if you’re just… I don’t know, keeping me around until something better comes along?”
He got so defensive. Told me I was being unfair, that he loves me, that he’s just “not there yet” with the whole marriage thing. That he needs to feel “financially stable” first—which is such bullshit because we both have good jobs and our rent is reasonable and we’re doing fine.
I asked him point blank: “When will you be ready? Give me a timeframe.”
“I can’t just pull a date out of thin air,” he said. “Maybe after I get promoted. Maybe next year. I don’t know.”
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. I’m so tired of maybe.
We haven’t really talked since my birthday. It’s been this weird, cold silence in the apartment. He goes to work, comes home, plays video games or watches TV, and acts like everything’s normal. Meanwhile I’m over here spiraling, looking at studio apartments I can’t really afford on my own, crying while I’m supposed to be working on client designs, and wondering if I just wasted the second half of my twenties on someone who’s never going to marry me.
The worst part? I still love him. I still love the guy who makes me coffee exactly how I like it and does silly voices for the dog and holds my hand during scary movies. But I don’t know if love is enough anymore when there’s no future attached to it.
My friends are split. Half of them say I should give him an ultimatum: propose by the end of the year or I walk. The other half say ultimatums never work and I should just leave now before I waste any more time. Emma says I deserve someone who’s excited to marry me, not someone who acts like I’m asking him to donate a kidney.
But six years. That’s six years of memories and inside jokes and shared Netflix passwords and a whole life we’ve built together. How do you just walk away from that? How do you start over at 29 when all your friends are getting married and you’re back on dating apps competing with 23-year-olds?
At the same time… if he wanted to marry me, wouldn’t he have done it by now? Wouldn’t he at least be excited to talk about it instead of treating it like I’m nagging him about taking out the trash?
I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m being demanding and unreasonable for wanting basic commitment after six years. But I also feel like I’m watching my life slip away while I wait for someone who might never be ready.
So I’m asking: Am I overreacting? Is six years too soon to expect a proposal?
Would you walk away from someone you love because they won’t commit, or would you keep waiting and hoping they’ll change their mind?
What would you do if you were me?
