I (30F) have been with my boyfriend (32M) for almost seven years. We’ve built a life together—shared an apartment, combined some finances, adopted a cat, done the usual couple milestones. For years I imagined marriage was just around the corner; he isn’t the most outwardly romantic guy, but he’s steady, kind, dependable. Everyone who knows us considers us “that solid couple.”
Which makes what happened feel even more devastating, because I might have ruined everything with one stupid, careless mistake.
A few weeks ago, I went out for drinks with coworkers after a stressful project wrapped up. One thing led to another, and I got tipsier than I should have. A male colleague I normally only chat with at work offered to walk me to my car. I should’ve said no. Instead, I let him. And in the blur of alcohol and poor judgment, he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t a make-out, it wasn’t some grand affair—just a few seconds—but I didn’t push him away fast enough. I didn’t invite it, but I also didn’t immediately shut it down. That hesitation has been chewing me alive with guilt ever since.
The second it happened, I snapped to myself, pulled back, and said “this shouldn’t have happened.” I got in my car, drove home in tears, and honestly felt sick with how unlike myself I’d been. I love my boyfriend more than anything, and the idea that I could risk our trust over something so meaningless makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.
I debated whether I should keep it to myself and work through the guilt, since it was so brief and meaningless. But hiding things is not who I am, and I knew if the roles were reversed, and I found out later, I’d be devastated not just by the kiss but by the lie. So I told him the next day. I sat him down, voice shaking, and admitted what had happened.
He didn’t yell. He just went very still and quiet, and then left the apartment for hours. When he came home, he said he needed time. Since then, we’ve been coexisting in this heavy silence. He’s civil, but distant. He sleeps on the far edge of the bed, avoids eye contact, and answers questions in clipped tones. The warmth is gone, and I can’t help but think I shattered it permanently.
What’s killing me is that it was so meaningless, and yet it could mean the end of everything. I know it’s not just about “a drunk kiss.” For him, it’s about trust, safety, whether he can see a future with someone who made such a careless lapse. And I keep replaying every moment of our relationship, wondering if he’s tallying up every past disagreement, every time I might not have been perfect, and deciding this is proof I’m not “the one” after all.
We were even casually looking at rings before this. Now it feels like marriage is off the table completely, like instead of building a family together, I’ll be starting from scratch in my 30s.
I’m spiraling. Friends tell me I’m being too hard on myself—it was just a drunken mistake—but they’re not the ones who see the hurt in his eyes when he looks at me now. I want desperately to make this right. I suggested couples counseling, but he just said he “isn’t sure there’s a point.”
I hate myself for those few seconds of hesitation. I keep thinking: if I had just stepped away faster, if I’d refused the walk entirely, if I’d left the bar earlier… we’d still be “us.” Instead, I’m living with this awful pit in my stomach that I may have destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me.
So Reddit, AITAH for telling him and risking everything instead of keeping that mistake to myself? Was confession the right thing, even if it costs me the man I love? Or am I just punishing him by unloading my guilt?
I genuinely don’t know anymore. All I know is I’ve never been this afraid of losing someone, and time feels like it’s slipping away before he makes up his mind.
