I’m Not My Friend’s Friend
When you realise the friendship you treasured was a one-sided story and you're not even in the group chat.
There are few heartbreaks quite as excruciating and oddly humiliating as realising someone you considered a close friend does not, in fact, consider you the same.
Not a breakup. Not a rejection. Not even being ghosted after three dates with someone you thought could be your husband because he likes jarred pesto and niche wine bars. No, worse than all of that is The Friendship Mismatch.
You know the one.
You thought you were in the VIP lounge of their life. Turns out you were in the coatroom.
It always starts innocently enough. Your colleague's birthday is coming up, and you’ve already decided you’ll take her for dinner or a drink, something lowkey and lovely. You’re mentally debating which bottle of wine she’d love most, telling everyone how excited you are to celebrate her. And then someone, maybe a mutual friend casually says, “Wait, you’re not coming to the house party?”
And just like that, the air shifts.
Because it’s not the question itself. It’s the tilt of the head. The tone. The slight furrow of confusion in their brow. And suddenly, the scaffolding starts to shake.
You start rewinding.
Were they ever the one to initiate plans?
Did they message you when you were going through that thing with your dad?
How often did they like your stories out of obligation or because they actually cared?
Do they know your middle name?
And the answer comes slowly and bitterly. Like honey left too long in the cupboard.
Oh.
Oh, I see.
I’m not her friend.
I’m her friend-adjacent.
I am the “plus one” to her better friends. I am the “oh we should definitely catch up” but never do. I am the person she’s warm to in public, polite to in group chats, and vaguely familiar with in birthday collages.
This sort of social heartbreak is uniquely awful because there’s no official declaration. No break-up conversation. No final scene where you cry in the rain with mascara melting down your chin while she holds your hands and says, “It’s not you, it’s me.”
You just… realise.
You realise you were holding onto a dynamic that only existed in your head. You made her a Main Character in your story while you were a brief cameo in hers. You assigned depth to something that, for her, was just background noise.
And you feel ridiculous.
Because how did you get it so wrong?
This is the part where most people will tell you to move on, or that it’s her loss, or that you’re better off without anyone who doesn’t see how special you are. And yes, perhaps. Sure. But also, allow yourself to grieve. Not the person but the version of the friendship you thought you had. The closeness you felt. The comfort you invented.
It’s painful to realise that your emotional reality wasn’t mutual. That what felt like home for you was just a rented flat for her.
But here’s what I’m learning slowly, clumsily, occasionally with wine and several angry voice notes to patient friends:
You can’t control the roles people give you in their lives.
But you can be honest about who deserves a leading part in yours.
So take her out of the centre of your story. Let her walk offstage. And instead, start noticing the people who do check in. The ones who message first. The ones who remember your interview, your mum’s birthday, your tendency to spiral at 11:43 pm on a Tuesday.
Give them the screen time.
Because friendship, real friendship, should feel like a two-way current.
Not a silent audition you didn’t know you were failing.
And maybe, someday soon, when you meet someone who calls you their best friend without being prompted, you’ll realise that the best relationships, platonic or otherwise are the ones that don’t leave you guessing.
They just feel like home. And they never make you doubt it.
PS. If you’ve ever accidentally called someone your “bestie” only to find out they think of you as “colleague vibes” I see you. Let’s meet for a drink and debrief. Real friends only.
About Twenty Five Reset
Hi, I’m Niamh, and everyone was right, 25 really is a turning point. I finally know who I am, what I want, and my purpose… but it’s nothing like I expected.
I work in TV, but it doesn’t define me. This space is my reset embracing the mess, reflecting, and creating again. You can expect:
Pop Culture and a lot of chats about 2000 - 2020 TV Shows
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