I’m sitting in a coffee shop listening to “Such a Funny Way” by Sabrina Carpenter, feeling sick with guilt as I write this. I don’t think I like my friends. Am I the problem? Do I do this to myself? Do I not like my friends or am I just frustrated with them? Do I have a right to be frustrated with them?
I recently saw a Tik Tok explaining how you should never be upset if your friend group hangs out without you. While this definitely reframed my perspective on my complex feelings, I couldn’t help but offer some pushback against this idea. The video explained how friend groups are a social construct (are friendships not a social construct as well?), and that no one owes you anything in a friend group to include you. You are not entitled to someone else’s bond with another friend; that is separate from you. While I understand and respect that, is it not slightly cruel? Should you not seek to include your friends?
I do see validity in this argument. There are some things I only want to experience with certain friends. I would not go see a musical with my non-theatre friends; I would reserve that occasion for people who would value and respect that experience. But when it comes to hanging out, if you feel your friends are unable to value and respect time with you, is that a sign to distance that friendship?
Dynamics in a relationship change. People change. I know that it is okay to outgrow people, and that we are not indebted to each other. No one owes you anything. But shouldn’t people want to have loyalty to one another? Shouldn’t you want to show up and seek out your friends?
People often get caught up in the self-care movement. Media today tells us that, if you feel any sort of anxiety in a relationship, you should cut it off. It’s not serving you or bringing you happiness; get rid of it. But is this mindset not creating a double standard? You don’t owe anyone anything, but if they don’t work in your favor, be done with them? In a world that craves self-care and improvement, have we become worse? Have we become so caught up in the idea of what being a good person looks like that we’ve forgotten our own sense of self? People make mistakes. That’s inevitable. People change, that’s also inevitable. But a good friendship should change and grow with you. You should water each other's branches. People aren’t perfect, and you can’t expect them to be.
I think about the best friendships that I have. I’m a person with many flaws. I’m arrogant at times, I don’t like vulnerability, and I’m immature. My best friends see this, and don’t critique me for it. They make me feel whole. They remind me that we all have flaws; it’s what makes us human. We work through our issues. We put our pride aside and shrug it off. I’ve recently been plagued by people who don’t operate that way. Who aren’t okay with accountability. Who don’t see their own flaws. When you’re met with failure you must recognize it, but you can’t get hung up on it. You don’t get better if you don’t fail. I’ve failed in many friendships. I’ve failed in other ways too. I hate failing, but I know you don’t get better if you don’t fail. There are times I’ve been a bad friend. I’ve chased a guy instead of hanging out with them or I’ve made a rude comment. But I’ve learned from my mistakes. I am not the best friend that I know, but I try.
Is that the issue? Have people forgotten how to put in the effort of trying? Of thinking for yourself. Of looking at an issue from multiple perspectives and analyzing how it can be improved? Or am I the freak? I’ve always been told I’m chalant, and I agree. I’m an overachiever, gold star, eager geek, but I never want people to question their worth because of me. When I love, I love loudly. People don’t applaud that anymore. People applaud whose Instagram posts of their curated group of friends look the best. People put you in a box: “This is my friend! She’s my favorite person to go out with!” Somehow that friend you met freshman year who has seen you cry and studied with you re-labels you, gives you a new identity because you changed. They can’t fathom the idea of you being human.
As a member of a sorority, people make different presumptions about me. My closest friends at Pitt not in Greek life have done so. They assume that, because I spend time with my sorority, I never want to spend time with them. They don’t invite me to things unless they gain something from it. Friendships must serve you, but not require too much effort. Suddenly, friendships stopped being meaningful and grew superficial. After a week filled with exams and meetings, no one reaches out asking to get lunch or study. Suddenly I’m only relevant on the weekend. Did people lose passion? When did everyone get so fucking shallow?
I recently hung out with that group of friends and felt like such an outsider. None of them spoke to me. I sort of just sat there. If they were met with a question, they deferred it to someone else.. Every single conversation seemed to include some new inside joke I wasn’t privy to and no one felt like explaining because “you just had to be there.” I couldn’t find a place to fit in. But of course, the next morning when someone had Sunday scaries they asked me how to fix them. It seems that my role as a principal character in the friend group has shifted. I was written off just like Reneé Rapp in The Sex Lives of College Girls and am now a recurring character. I came in for a fun weekend montage filled with flashing lights, or to remedy a lead’s problem. I was not included in the studying scenes, or the sleepovers, or the after party. There was never a closeup on what was happening in my life. Suddenly, the audience stopped caring.
It’s not normal to feel this way. It’s not normal to have friends who do this to you – by my standards, at least. While everyone expects my sorority relationships to be superficial, they’re more real than the people who pride themselves on being different. The people who don’t “pay for friends,” who maybe need to start doing so.
I’m ending this piece, still in the same coffee shop with greasy hair and headphones on. I’m listening to “Better Than This” by Lizzy Mcalpine now, looking at a room full of people and guessing their dynamics. Across from me are 4 moms catching up, talking about their spouses and the hijinks their kids are getting up to. I’m looking at a table of 4 freshmen, giddy with excitement at having found a new coffee shop off campus. Now, I'm looking at 2 people on a first date, trying to be nonchalant. I wonder if they ever feel this way, like an outsider looking in. If they ever wake up everyday and wonder where they should spend their energy. Getting to know new people, or staying stuck in the same cycle with old friends, hoping one day they’ll remember how things used to be – how they used to sleep in the same bed after a night out and talk about the people who hurt them. The next morning one of them makes eggs as the other cuts up fruit. I guess time will tell. I’m ending this piece listening to “I might say something stupid” by charliexcx.
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