My fiancé approved a wedding menu he secretly hates

My fiancé chose the chicken at our tasting because I loved it.

I learned this three weeks later when he ordered takeout after dinner and said, almost casually, “I could not eat another bite of that sauce.”

That sauce is on our wedding menu.

We attended the tasting with my parents, who are contributing to the catering. The chef served two entrées, and I immediately preferred the chicken. It had a bright lemon sauce, roasted vegetables and the kind of presentation that made the whole wedding feel briefly organized.

My fiancé said it was great.

The other option was a short-rib dish he barely touched. I assumed that meant the decision was easy.

Apparently, he disliked both.

He did not say so because the rest of us were enthusiastic, the chef was standing nearby and my father had already begun discussing wine. He thought objecting would create another round of choices over a meal he expects to eat for twenty minutes.

I asked what he would actually like.

He said tacos.

We are not replacing a seated dinner with tacos three months before the wedding. I say that with affection and also with certainty.

The problem is not that his ideal menu differs from mine. The problem is that I believed we made a shared decision when he was privately removing himself from it.

This has happened in smaller ways during planning. I ask which invitation design he prefers. He says both are fine. I choose one. Weeks later, he mentions that the other one was easier to read.

He describes this as being flexible. I experience it as receiving information after it can no longer help.

To be fair, I can become intense when I like something. At the tasting, I was not calmly comparing proteins. I was saying, “This is it,” after the second bite and watching my parents agree. He may have felt that disagreeing meant taking a happy moment away from three people.

That is not the kind of agreement I want.

The caterer says we can change one entrée without losing our deposit, but we need to choose from the existing menu. We could schedule another tasting for an added fee or pick from descriptions.

My fiancé thinks we should leave everything alone. He says he can eat the vegetables, enjoy dessert and have tacos another day. The wedding meal does not need to become a symbol of whether his voice matters.

It became that symbol the moment he said he never liked it.

I proposed choosing a second entrée that he genuinely wants and offering guests a choice. That would add service complexity and a modest cost. He says spending more to correct his silence would make him feel worse.

My mother thinks I am overreacting. She points out that couples routinely compromise on menus and neither person needs a favorite dish. I agree. Compromise requires two stated preferences. This was one preference and one performance.

Last night, we looked at the caterer’s menu again. He chose a simple herb-roasted option and said it sounded good. I asked whether “good” meant good or meant “please stop asking me about chicken.”

He laughed, then admitted he did not know anymore.

We may need a new planning rule more than a new entrée. I want him to say what he thinks before I fall in love with an answer. He wants space to be neutral without every neutral response becoming suspicious.

Would you change the meal so both partners have one real choice, or accept that not every wedding decision needs equal enthusiasm? How do we distinguish genuine flexibility from agreement offered only because one person is louder?