Sometimes the biggest lie we believe isn’t told by another person.
It’s the one we tell ourselves.
I’ve been with this man for five years.
Five years in which I grew, studied, moved cities, took internships, pushed myself forward.
And him?
He stayed exactly where he was.
Every time I brought up the future — marriage, a home, stability, plans — he smiled, changed the subject, or said the most comfortable and cruel phrase of all:
“Someday.”
Someday — the word people use when they want time without commitment.
The word that quietly steals years from your life.
I kept growing. He kept waiting.
I’m 26.
I invested in myself. I took risks. I moved. I learned.
He’s 30.
He has a job, a routine, a place to live… and three confirmed affairs that I forgave — even though each one broke off a piece of my self-respect.
Three times I chose to believe a lie, because I was more afraid of losing him than he was of losing me.
That should have been my answer.
I almost proposed to him
Last week, the thought crossed my mind:
What if I propose to him instead?
I imagined everything —
a trip to the sea, candles, music, photos, our families waiting to applaud.
I imagined myself crying.
I imagined him saying yes.
I imagined my life finally beginning.
But when I told my sister, she didn’t look at me with anger.
She looked at me with pain.
“How can you do this to yourself?” she said.
“Beg a man who’s done nothing for five years?
A man who cheated on you three times?
A man who doesn’t want to leave his comfort zone, doesn’t want to grow, doesn’t want to move forward?
A man who holds your dreams back?”
And that’s when I realized — she wasn’t attacking me.
She was protecting me.
She said the truth I was avoiding
“He doesn’t want to get married.
If he did, he would have already done it. Five years is more than enough time.
He’s not afraid of marriage — he’s afraid of responsibility.
And you keep saving him from it.”
That sentence hit harder than anything else.
Because it’s true.
I’m the one holding the relationship together.
I’m the one forgiving.
I’m the one waiting.
And he’s just living comfortably inside my patience.
The real fear isn’t asking the question
The real fear is hearing the answer.
I’m afraid he’ll say:
“I don’t want to get married.”
I’m afraid to realize that he never had real plans with me.
That I was convenience.
Safety.
A habit.
I’m afraid that five years of my life were just a stop — not a destination.
But the scariest part?
I’m afraid my sister is right.
That I’m holding on to someone who isn’t holding on to me.
Maybe the proposal isn’t for him
Maybe I shouldn’t propose anything to him at all.
Maybe I should propose something to myself:
-
to leave
-
to move forward
-
to choose myself for once
Deep down, I already know the answer.
I just haven’t found the courage yet
to say it out loud.