I went through my first breakup when I was 15 years old. It was the result of months upon months of tension and arguments that one day came to a head. She was angrily texting me for the millionth time about what an awful person I was, and finally told me that she was done. “Have a great rest of your summer and I’ll see you at school in the fall.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” was all I said.
She cut me off over text. If you’re thinking, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe she would do that to you,” or, “What a coward for not doing it in person,” all I have to say is I couldn’t agree more! But would you still feel that way if I told you she wasn’t my girlfriend—not even a fling, or someone I was “talking to”—but my best friend?
For the rest of the summer, I felt depressed. The entire previous year was spent as a duo: making memories, having sleepovers and drinking for the first time, giving each other boy advice, sharing lunches, going on beach trips, and skipping class to wander around the empty halls. Now I only had one other friend at school. Anxiety filled my chest when I thought about the start of fall, dreadfully counting down the days until we would see each other. Would she turn everyone against me? Would she even acknowledge me at all? I had no idea.
Somehow, despite my fears and worries, I missed my best friend. She made me feel awful, but I still missed her. It was like a part of me was gone, a part of my childhood, a part of my personality.
That summer was the worst one I’d had in a long time. Guys would do me wrong throughout high school, but it didn’t hurt in the same way. I knew boys would come and go, but friends…they were supposed to stay. Nothing could have prepared me for the pain of a female friendship ending.
In the coming years, I was dropped by friends without warning, betrayed by girls who used to hold me while I cried over boys, and blocked by friends who once told me they’d be my future bridesmaids. Friends that I used to see every single day ghosted me out of nowhere. I equated these girls with my sisters. I’d think about them and say to myself, “Yeah, they’re my soulmates.”
Admittedly, though, I’m not completely innocent, nor was I solely a victim of this cruel tradition. I dropped a few girls over rumors or petty drama, deciding one day to end the friendship without further explanation or the courtesy of a goodbye. I truly am ashamed of my poor judgment during those times. It caused a kind of hurt that I know will stick with me for a long time: guilt.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, my boyfriend has had the same friends since his freshman year of high school. His college friends have stuck around all four years as well, something that I could only dream of for my younger self. He’s had only one to my ten, maybe fifteen, friend breakups. That’s exactly what they should be called: friend breakups. How else can you describe it? The process is the same, as are the feelings afterward. The emptiness you get when thinking about them months, even years after the friendship ends is the same; it all is. If I’m being completely honest, I think friend breakups are worse than romantic ones. A friend’s excuse for cutting you off could be unfair, the result of a misunderstanding, or something vague like you’re just “drifting apart,” and you’re forced to accept that. In my experience, there are times when friends don’t even give an excuse. They just decide to switch up one day, marking the end of an era. At that moment, they are just as bad as those partners who ghost us without explanation.
I’m so done with the toxicity that can appear in female friendships. The cattiness, the lack of respect, the gossip, and the cutting each other off detract from how amazing these friendships can be. They are one of the most beautiful experiences a person can be blessed with. They make you feel special; like you are part of a girlhood that is all your own, with people who love you for everything you are and are not. They can be intense, but also sublime, exhilarating, and magnificently authentic. Yet they receive this reputation as being superficial because the way they often come to an end can be immature and straight-up brutal.
I wrote this piece in hopes that I would come to some profound realization on how to solve this problem. I hoped that I would help girls who have experienced friend breakups put an end to the cycle. The more I write, the more I realize that there's no solution. If I’m being honest, girls won’t change. The bad taste in your mouth won’t fade with time, either. I still miss my old friends and wish I could say one final “I love you” or “You were a terrible friend” to them, even though I know it won’t change anything. But there’s a silver lining: we still haven’t met all the people we will be friends with yet. Some people leave, but others enter our lives in the most unexpected ways, bringing more memories, laughs, and unconditional friendship. Soon enough, we will be able to look back on old friendships with less hurt and more appreciation for what they once were. I needed my first best friend to dump me to know what a true best friend is supposed to be like. I needed all those friend breakups to appreciate those who chose to stay.
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