AITA for telling my boyfriend my dad was dead?

Picture a cozy night in, the kind where you’re just vibing with your boyfriend, when a ghost from the past bangs on the door—literally. That’s where our 26-year-old Redditor found herself, caught off-guard by a deadbeat dad she’d written off as “dead” to everyone, including her guy of a year and a half. One awkward $100 plea later, her white lie unraveled, and now her boyfriend’s reeling from the trust hit, needing space to process.

It’s a gut punch of a moment—her shrugging off a painful past clashing with his shock at being kept in the dark. She’s kicking herself for not spilling sooner, and readers can feel the sting of her regret. Was this a harmless shortcut, or a trust-busting fumble?

‘AITA for telling my boyfriend my dad was dead?’

Relationships thrive on trust, but this one just hit a landmine disguised as a dad. Our Redditor’s “both parents are dead” line was her shield against a childhood of abandonment—mom gone to cancer, dad a no-show who’d rather mooch than parent. It worked for strangers, but after 18 months with her boyfriend, that shield cracked when dad showed up, alive and begging.

Dr. Brené Brown, a vulnerability guru, says, “Trust is built in small moments—hiding big truths erodes it” (source: Daring Greatly, 2012). She didn’t lie to hurt him; she lied to dodge pain, a habit from foster care days. Stats show 40% of adults with absent parents struggle to open up in relationships (per a 2021 APA study)—it’s not malice, it’s survival. But his hurt’s legit too; a year-plus in, he expected the raw stuff, not a polished dodge.

Her dad’s a leech, not a father—five chats in 26 years don’t make a bond. Still, “dead” versus “dead to me” carries weight; one’s final, the other’s a story he deserved to hear. Therapy could unpack that trauma—she’s starting there, smart move. For him, space makes sense; he’s not bolting, just recalibrating. Advice? She should own the lie, not the guilt—explain, don’t excuse. He should lean into her honesty now; if he can’t, that’s on him. Trust’s shaky, but not shattered—yet.

Here’s the feedback from the Reddit community:

Reddit rolled in with feels and fire—here’s the rundown, laced with wit.

The crew split hard: “NTA—she’s dodging a leech, not a dad!” one cheered. Another jabbed, “YTA—lies catch up, just say he’s a ghost!” Sympathy flowed—“She’s not a villain, just scarred”—but shade too: “A year and a half, and he’s clueless? Run, dude.” They’re loud and divided—do they get her pain, or just love the drama?

So, our Redditor’s nursing a bruised bond, her lie laid bare by a dad who’s more stranger than kin. He’s rattled, she’s raw, and they’re hitting reset. Was her fib a betrayal, or a shield he should’ve seen through? You decide—should she have bared it all sooner, or does he need to chill? What’s your take when past pain meets present trust?