What No One Tells You About Calling Off An Engagement

The end of an engagement can feel like the rug has been pulled out from under you, leaving you to rebuild from the ground up. It's a heartbreak that's all too real, and one that hit me personally when I scrolled through Instagram the other day.

I was mindlessly browsing stories when I landed on a fashion influencer I'd followed for years. We'd had a minor online spat once, but I'd stuck around because I genuinely admired her spirit and was always cheering her on from afar. Then, a stark black screen appeared with white text announcing that her engagement had ended. She and her fiancé had decided to part ways amicably. They'd been together for two years, with a splashy engagement announcement featuring videos of a stunning teardrop ring and a party that rivaled many weddings. She had just purchased a chic apartment in New York City, and they had started renovating it. It shattered my heart for her. I hadn't seen it coming at all. I felt her pain viscerally, wishing I could wrap her in a hug. But it resonated so deeply because it mirrored my own experience. I'd been there too, watching my carefully constructed future unravel not too long ago.

I was once approached by a filmmaker who was producing a documentary on trad wives and asked if she could interview me. Because I advocate for boys, men, and fathers, and call out the feminist narratives that manipulate girls and women, presenting data that proves love, marriage, and family are most important, and because I try my best to keep my private life private, she assumed I was a woman pushing her own “conservative” personal choices on other women. It couldn't be further from the truth. Although I love my trad girls, I don’t fall into that category. If anything, I’m a millennial woman who was negatively impacted by feminist messaging, and I hope other women become aware of the truth so they might not experience what I have.

Life has a way of shifting perspectives.

My engagement story started with promise. I met my fiancé in my mid-twenties. He was a bit older, already divorced with three kids. From the outset, he was upfront. That chapter of his life was closed, and he didn't want more children. As a millennial woman who had been raised on the mantra of prioritizing career over family, I thought, “Sure, why not? It's like stepping into a ready-made family.” I didn't crave motherhood then, or so I believed. We built a life together over a few years, including an engagement. He was a good man: kind, funny, and stable, and our days were filled with shared routines and blended family moments. We were best friends.

But life has a way of shifting perspectives. When my identical twin sister welcomed a baby boy into the world, holding that tiny bundle ignited something primal in me. My biological clock wasn't just ticking, it was ringing alarms. Suddenly, I questioned everything: my choices, my relationship, and the feminist narratives that had shaped my views, insisting that self and career success should eclipse family aspirations. My fiancé and I had honest conversations. We realized we were in different life chapters. He didn't want to deny me the joy of motherhood, and he feared I'd resent him if we stayed together. Deep down, I was already reevaluating how societal pressures had delayed my desire for children of my own. In the end, we chose to part ways, not out of anger, but out of love and respect.

The fallout was devastating. One day, I was debating wedding locations and admiring my engagement ring. The next, I was apartment hunting solo, grieving the loss of not just my partner, but the extended family and friends we'd woven into our lives. Friend groups we'd cultivated as a couple drifted. He was the more outgoing one, so many stayed closer to him. It was a lonely adjustment, compounded by the mortification of explaining the breakup to everyone who had received party invites or seen my excited social media posts.

Yet, the end of an engagement doesn't spell failure. It's often a courageous pivot toward what’s truly right. Statistics show that approximately 20 percent of all engagements are called off before the wedding day. You're not alone in this. Many women face it, especially as priorities evolve around age 30. It's far easier to end an engagement than to endure a marriage that crumbles later, potentially with children involved.

Approximately 20 percent of all engagements are called off before the wedding day.

I have a friend who threw the most gorgeous wedding imaginable. She had meticulously planned every detail for two years, and it was top notch, from the elegant venue to the exquisite décor. On the surface, the couple seemed happy. I don’t even want to think about the fortune they must have spent, but shockingly, within a year, we learned they had separated and were filing for divorce.

My friend was devastated. She later confided that they had been facing serious issues even before the big day, but with all the preparations complete and the event approaching, she hoped the celebration might somehow fix their problems. Sadly, it didn't. Things only got worse, and they parted ways just a year after saying “I do.”

The lesson here is clear. If a relationship is rocky, it's far wiser to call off an engagement than to proceed with a wedding that could shatter lives and hearts even more.

For those navigating the pain of the end of an engagement, especially after hitting that milestone age where clocks seem to tick louder, here's my heartfelt advice drawn from my own journey and the experiences of others.

First, resist the urge to leap right back into dating. Unless an exceptional match appears organically, dedicate time to yourself. Become whole on your own. Realize no knight in shining armor is coming to “save” you. Dive deep. Identify why the engagement ended. Was it mismatched life goals? Address your flaws humbly through daily meditation, not trendy abundance visualizations chasing status, stuff, or partners, but introspective practices that reconnect you to your inner self and something greater, perhaps your faith or core values.

If the split was amicable, consider maintaining friendly ties with your ex and his family. My former fiancé and I remained close friends. I stayed bonded with his mother over shared recipes and memories, and with his children, who I love dearly. They were older and understood the situation. This softened the blow, preserving some continuity for them and for me amid the chaos.

What wasn't meant to be makes space for what is.

Loneliness can creep in as social circles shift, so lean on your own family. They provide unwavering support during transitions. And please, don't swear off marriage, love, or men entirely. Men are wonderful partners. This was simply a mismatch in timing and desires. Reflect on what you truly want. Is age a factor? Do you envision children? Where do you see your life unfolding geographically? Clarity here, uninfluenced by modern messages that deprioritize men, marriage, and motherhood, is crucial. I'm not advising against dating divorced men with families, but ensure alignment from the start, especially if building your own family was always a dream.

My ex-fiancé is with a woman today who is in the same life chapter as him, and I couldn’t be happier that he found love that fits. As for me, stay tuned.

An engagement’s end can feel mortifying and soul-crushing, like your world has imploded. But in time, you'll see it as a blessing for both of you. What wasn't meant to be makes space for what is. Stay resilient, nurture your feminine strength, and never abandon hope for love. The right path, perhaps one embracing traditional joys like marriage and motherhood, awaits.

You’ve got this.