I know how that sounds. Believe me, I know. It was a messed-up thing to say, and I’ve been sitting with it for two days now wondering what the hell is wrong with me. But in the moment, it just… slipped out. And now my whole family thinks I’m some kind of villain.
So, here’s the backstory.
My cousin Erin (24F) and I (25M) grew up pretty close. Our moms are sisters, we were born less than a year apart, and we spent summers at our grandparents’ lake house every year until college. She was always the “golden child” — straight A’s, piano lessons, one of those kids who actually liked broccoli. I was more… the weird one. ADHD, messy, barely passed algebra, more into video games and horror movies.
We got along for the most part, but Erin has always had this kind of condescending vibe. Like she’s constantly trying to gently “correct” you — whether it’s your grammar, your career choices, or how you load the dishwasher. Not even in a mean way — just this tone that makes you feel like a charity case.
Anyway, Erin was adopted when she was a baby. Everyone in the family knows — it’s not a secret, and she’s super open about it. Her adoptive parents are my aunt and uncle, obviously. But she’s always been part of the family. We’ve never treated her any differently, at least not outwardly. Until, apparently, I did.
The Argument That Started It All
So we were at a family cookout last weekend. It was hot, people were cranky, and Erin and I ended up sitting next to each other at the patio table while our parents argued about propane tanks or something.
I mentioned I was thinking about moving to Portland, and Erin gave me that look — the one where her eyebrows scrunch just slightly and she tilts her head like she’s about to deliver a TED Talk on why you’re wrong.
She said something like, “You don’t really strike me as the ‘Portland’ type. It’s very career-driven and outdoorsy.”
I laughed and said, “Okay, what does that even mean?”
And she goes, “I just think you’d hate it. You need structure, and Portland’s very… unstructured.”
That’s when I lost it a little. I snapped, “Jesus, Erin, not everything has to be some character flaw critique.”
She got defensive and said she was “just trying to help,” and I said, probably too loudly, “You always think you’re smarter than everyone because you were chosen or whatever.”
She froze. Everyone around us froze. I mean dead silence.
And then I made it worse. I said, “You know what? You weren’t even really adopted. Aunt Lisa just picked the first baby she could get. It’s not like there was some magical vetting process. It’s not that deep.”
I don’t even remember how I got there — like my brain just pushed the self-destruct button and I rode it all the way into the sun.
Erin got up and walked inside. Didn’t say a word. She left with her parents 20 minutes later, didn’t say goodbye.
Now my mom is furious, my aunt won’t return my texts, and my grandma said I “shattered something that might not be fixable.”
I tried to apologize the next day — I texted Erin and said I was sorry, that I said something cruel in the heat of the moment and it wasn’t how I really felt. She left me on read.
I get it. What I said was objectively terrible. I basically used her adoption — something she’s always been proud of and open about — as a weapon to shut her down. I know that wasn’t okay.
But at the same time… she’s not some fragile porcelain doll. She does talk down to people a lot. She does assume she knows what’s best. I’ve watched her pick apart my little brother’s college plans, tell my mom her lasagna had “too much salt for people over 60,” and “correct” my uncle’s pronunciation of “gyro” mid-sentence.
It’s like she gets away with low-level insults all the time because she says them with a soft voice and a fake smile. But the moment I snap, I’m suddenly the devil?
I keep wondering if this is one of those situations where I said a bad thing, but it came from a real place. Like, maybe I finally voiced something that’s been sitting unspoken in the family for years. Or maybe I just blew up and took a cheap shot and now I have to live with that.
Honestly? I don’t even know anymore. I feel gross. I keep replaying the look on her face in my head — like I’d physically slapped her.
So… AITA?
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