AITA for skipping my twin brother’s wedding because my boyfriend wasn’t allowed to come?

My identical twin and his fiancée first told me it was “up to me” if I brought my boyfriend to their wedding—then months and $1,300 in travel later, they suddenly banned him over “how family would react,” but still expected me to show up alone and smiling.

I’m a 24-year-old gay man with an identical twin. We’re not close, but I assumed we had a baseline of mutual respect. I grew up in a traditional Southern town and only started coming out in college about five years ago. It’s been a slow process with family. After moving to DC in 2023 for school and work, I finally felt safer living more openly. I’ve been with my boyfriend (26M) for two years and have introduced him to friends and family gradually, whenever it felt safe. In November 2024, I went home for the holidays and told my twin and his fiancée about my boyfriend. They seemed happy for me. While I was staying with them, wedding plans came up and they asked if I’d be bringing a date. I said yes—my boyfriend. My twin went to bed, but his fiancée said, “While there are pros and cons, it’s up to you if you want to bring him.” My twin defers to her on everything, so I took that as a green light.

I thought I had my twin’s blessing—and his fiancée’s—to bring my boyfriend to their wedding, so we spent over a thousand dollars to be there. Weeks before the big day they banned him to “avoid a scene,” then acted shocked when I refused to come alone.

Five months went by. My boyfriend and I booked flights, hotel, everything—around $1,300 in total. Three weeks before the wedding, I was on the phone with my twin and casually said that we were all set. His tone changed immediately: “Oh, is your boyfriend actually coming?” I reminded him of the conversation with his fiancée. He insisted she never said that and accused me of making it up. Then he dropped it: “We can’t allow your boyfriend to come. We worry how Dad’s side will react.” I offered to call our dad right then to handle it. My twin dodged, saying he’d check with his fiancée instead, even though he’d just claimed it was his decision. After an hour, nothing changed. I was still invited—alone—and still expected to buy a suit to match the groomsmen, even though I wasn’t in the wedding party, and to show up like everything was fine.

"We can’t allow your boyfriend to come. We worry how Dad’s side will react."

That’s when I snapped and asked him, “If I didn’t invite your fiancée to my wedding, would you still come?” He couldn’t answer and ended the call after some harsh words. Wanting to remove the supposed obstacle, I did something I’d been terrified to do for years: I came out to my dad and explained everything. He was surprisingly calm and even said uninviting my boyfriend was extreme. He offered to talk to the extended family, and I thought we’d solved the main problem. But weeks later my twin called again with a new excuse: now our friends would be “weirded out.” I told him, clearly, “If my boyfriend’s not invited, I’m not coming.” He wouldn’t budge.

"If my boyfriend’s not invited, I’m not coming."

Then came the kicker: my dad later told me my twin’s fiancée admitted she had, in fact, given me permission but changed her mind when she remembered “who would be there.” She denied all of this to my twin. On top of that, one of her bridesmaids is openly gay and brought her girlfriend—but according to the fiancée, “she’s not part of the family,” so it was somehow different. At that point, I didn’t go. My absence was noticed; I got texts asking where I was and my mom had to explain over and over. Ironically, the drama they were trying to avoid became “Why isn’t the twin here?” My relationship with my brother is now basically dead, and some wider family ties feel fragile. I keep wondering whether I should have just gone alone to “keep the peace,” or whether missing the wedding was the only way to keep my self-respect.

🏠 The Aftermath

In the end, I did not attend my twin’s wedding. My boyfriend and I had already sunk money into travel, and my seat at the ceremony stayed empty. Guests noticed. I got texts during and after the event asking where I was, and my mom had to repeatedly explain that I wasn’t there because my boyfriend had been uninvited.

The very thing my twin and his fiancée claimed they wanted to avoid—“attention” and people being “weirded out”—happened anyway, just in a different form. Instead of quietly blending into the crowd, my absence became the story. Meanwhile, I stayed home, my relationship with my twin basically severed, and the divide between me and parts of the family feeling much wider.

On top of that, learning that his fiancée lied about giving me permission, and that another queer couple attended with no issue because they were “not family,” made it clear this wasn’t about logistics—it was about what they were comfortable claiming as part of the family image.

"They didn’t want a scene, but uninviting my boyfriend and expecting me to show up alone created a bigger one than my presence ever would have."

Now I’m left with a broken relationship with my twin and a lingering question: did I protect myself, or did I let a line in the sand cost me my brother and parts of my family?

💭 Emotional Reflection

This isn’t just a “plus one” dispute; it’s about where my relationship and identity are allowed to exist in my own family. My twin and his fiancée wanted the version of me that fits their comfort level: the twin standing in pictures, buying the suit, smiling on cue—without the boyfriend that makes my sexuality visible.

Could I have gone alone and kept the peace? Maybe. But that would have meant swallowing a very clear message: that my love is acceptable in private conversations but not at a family milestone, even when straight partners were welcome without question and another same-sex couple attended because they were “just friends.” The double standard and shifting excuses made it hard to see this as anything but hurtful and hypocritical.

Reasonable people may argue that weddings are “their day, their rules,” but it’s also my life, my relationship, and my dignity. Saying no to attending wasn’t about ruining their wedding; it was about refusing to pretend I’m someone I’m not just to make bigots—or people afraid of bigots—more comfortable.

Here’s how the community might see it:

“If your boyfriend isn’t welcome but straight partners are, that’s not ‘avoiding drama’—that’s discrimination dressed up as politeness.”

“You offered solutions, even came out to your dad, and they still moved the goalposts. Staying home was a valid boundary.”

“Going solo would’ve taught them that your love is optional. Sometimes not showing up is the only way to be heard.”

Most reactions are likely to focus on the pattern of shifting excuses, the unequal treatment of queer guests, and the emotional cost of constantly being asked to downplay your relationship to keep family optics neat.

🌱 Final Thoughts

Family milestones can expose the gap between how people say they support you and what they’re actually willing to stand behind in public. Being told your partner isn’t welcome while others’ are is a painful reminder of that gap.

Skipping the wedding may have hurt, but sometimes protecting your self-respect means accepting that certain bonds will change—or even break—when you stop making yourself smaller. Only you can decide where that line is, but it’s not wrong to have one.

What do you think?
Would you have gone alone to keep the peace, or stayed away like I did? Share your thoughts below 👇