My girlfriend said “Not yet, maybe down the line” the SECOND time I proposed — so I closed the ring box and ended it. Her family calls me heartless. Then her sister called with the truth.

Part 2 – WHEN SHE SAID NOT YET

Update one.

First off, to everyone who said it was a red flag that she said no twice — you are absolutely right. But let me explain how I became the kind of man who would propose twice to someone who clearly didn’t want to marry him. Because trust me, past me would have judged present me too.

The first proposal was 18 months ago. We had been together 4 and a half years, and I thought — well, I thought wrong about everything. It was during our Colorado vacation with her family — a big extended family trip with parents, siblings, cousins, the whole crew. Laura’s family does this big reunion every summer, and I had been going for three years by then. They treated me like family, always included me in everything, asked my opinion on family decisions. I felt like I belonged.

I had been planning the proposal for months. I asked her dad for permission during a hiking trip we took together in March. He cried when I asked, said yes immediately, and told me he had been hoping I would ask soon. I had the ring custom made by a jeweler in downtown Seattle who Laura had admired once when we were walking by, and coordinated with the restaurant at the resort for the perfect setup. Picture this: a mountain sunset, fairy lights they had strung up just for us, everyone she loved gathered around. I got down on one knee in front of literally 20 people who all expected her to say yes. Her cousin had even brought a camera to capture the moment.

She froze. Just completely froze, for what felt like hours but was probably 30 seconds. Her face went white, and I watched all the joy drain out of her eyes. Then she whispered, “Not yet. Maybe down the line.”

The silence at that table. Guys, I wanted to disappear. Her mom started crying, but not happy tears. Her dad looked like someone had died. Her teenage niece actually said, “What?” out loud before her mom shushed her. I felt like a complete fool standing there with this ring box open, everyone staring at us. I somehow managed to close the box, give her a hug, and tell everyone we had talked about it later.

But the rest of the vacation was torture. Family members kept approaching me privately, asking if everything was okay, if they could help somehow. Her aunt pulled me aside and said, “She is probably just overwhelmed, dear. Give her time.”

But here is where I made my first mistake. I believed her when she pulled me aside that night and explained. We went for a walk around the resort, just the two of us, and she cried and apologized and explained that she wasn’t ready yet, but she would be. She said she needed her career to stabilize — she had just gotten promoted to senior marketing director and was traveling constantly. She said she needed to feel more financially secure. We were splitting everything 50/50, but she made less than me and was still paying off student loans. She said she needed the timing to be perfect. “I want to marry you,” she said, holding my hands and looking me straight in the eyes. “I love you more than anything. I just need a little more time to feel ready. Can you give me that?” And like an idiot, I said, “Okay.”

Reading your comments, I realize how many red flags I ignored. When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time. That comment hit hard, because it is so obvious in hindsight.

So I waited and waited, and slowly started to feel hopeful again when she began dropping hints about weddings. She would point out dresses in magazines and say things like, “That is gorgeous. What do you think?” She would talk about how she wanted her dad to walk her down the aisle someday. She would joke about our future kids having my stubborn streak and her organizational skills.

My friend Michael kept warning me. We would be out for beers and he would say, “Dude, if she wanted to marry you, she would have said yes the first time.” But I didn’t want to hear it. I was so deep in the situation that I couldn’t see clearly anymore. I kept thinking about the sunk cost, about how much we had invested, about how perfect we were together in every other way. I thought her no really was just about timing.

Here is what I am realizing now, thanks to many of your comments: she was dropping wedding hints because she thought that is what I needed to hear to stay, not because she actually wanted to get married. My mom even asked me once, about 6 months after the first proposal, if Laura was warming up to the idea. I told her about the dress comments and the wedding talk, and my mom got this look on her face. She said, “Honey, talking about something and wanting something are two different things.” I should have listened.

The second proposal happened about a week ago. Quiet this time, just us. I had learned my lesson about public pressure. We had had the most perfect day together — slept in late, made breakfast together, spent the afternoon at Pike Place Market, came home and cooked dinner while dancing around the kitchen to old songs. She seemed genuinely happy, relaxed. She had been less stressed about work lately, had gotten a bonus that helped her pay off one of her loans. She had even brought up the idea of us taking a trip to Europe next year, saying things like “when we go to Italy” instead of “if we go to Italy,” like maybe she was finally ready to think long term with me.

After dinner, we were sitting on the couch, her feet in my lap, talking about our friends Jake and Monica who had just gotten engaged. She said, “I am so happy for them. They are going to have a beautiful wedding.” That is when I knew this was the moment. I went to our bedroom, got the ring from where I had been hiding it in my sock drawer, and came back to the living room. She was still curled up on the couch, smiling at something on her phone.

When I got down on one knee and opened that ring box, her smile disappeared instantly. “Not yet. Maybe a little more down the line.” The exact same words, the exact same apologetic tone.

Something clicked in my brain. I realized that “maybe down the line” is just a polite way of saying “never, but I don’t want to hurt you.” I realized I had spent 18 months waiting for someone to choose me who had already chosen not to. And guys, I realized I had fallen out of love with someone who kept me in relationship limbo for a year and a half.

The aftermath has been brutal. Laura’s been crying every day, asking why I am giving up on us. She keeps saying things like, “I thought you loved me enough to wait,” and, “Why is marriage more important than what we have?” Her family thinks I am heartless for not giving her more time. Her sister Sarah actually asked me how long I expected Laura to wait for me to be ready, completely missing the point that I have been ready for 2 years. Her mom called me yesterday and said, “Daniel, she loves you so much. She is just scared. Can’t you see that?”

But here is what I told her mom, and what I wish I had realized sooner. Being scared of marrying someone after 6 years together isn’t the same as needing more time. It is a fundamental incompatibility.

My friends and my family, though, are relieved. My mom literally said, “Thank God. I was worried you would wait forever.” My dad, who is usually pretty quiet about relationship stuff, said, “Son, the right woman will not need to be convinced.” Even my sister, who has always liked Laura, said, “I am proud of you for choosing yourself.”

Laura moves out this weekend. She asked me yesterday if this was really it, if I was really throwing away 6 years. I told her I wasn’t throwing away anything. I was just finally accepting what she had been telling me all along. She said she thought we had forever. I said forever starts with yes, not maybe. I think that is when it finally hit her that I was serious. She started crying harder and said, “But I might have been ready next year, or the year after.” That is when I knew I had made the right choice. Might have been ready — after 6 years together.