FRIENDSHIP

 Friendship (Or, Why I No Longer Collect People)

When you’re young, you collect friends the way kids collect stickers.  Or rocks.  You want them all. You trade. You upgrade. You keep duplicates. You don’t think too hard about it.  Friends from work.  Mothers of you kidlet's friends.  

As you get older, you stop collecting and start curating.

My friendship world looks something like this:

• A tiny inner circle of daily or weekly connections.
(Max and my sister are daily — which tells you everything you need to know about my standards.)
• A larger circle of beloved people I connect with quarterly — the “thinking of you” texts, birthday notes, long catch-up emails.
• A wide halo of acquaintances — neighbors, WLLO Village folks, friendly faces in my orbit.

And that… is plenty.

I don’t want more friends.
I want the right friends.

Which brings me to the awkward part.

Over the past year, two women have been trying very hard to move into my inner circle.

I did give it a try.

• We had lunch.
• We had coffee.
• I texted.
• I was polite.
• I was open.

But sometimes the chemistry just isn’t there — and at this stage of life, I’m not interested cultivating it.  Or forcing it.

One is a longtime acquaintance who once worked for my husband. She likes to call while she’s driving an hour each week see her daughter and eight grandchildren — which means I get a running monologue, no listening, and a bad connection. It feels less like a conversation and more like being held hostage by Bluetooth.

The other is a WLLO contact who struggles deeply with depression. I’m sympathetic — truly — but she can complain about a sunny day. Everything is hard, heavy, bleak, exhausting. She can't meet there for lunch because there's nothing she can eat. Being with her feels like emotional CrossFit, and I didn’t sign up for that gym.

So I did what emotionally mature, conflict-avoidant people do.

I… faded.

I took longer to respond.
I skipped a reply.
I became “busy.”
I let silence do the talking.

In theory, this is supposed to allow a relationship to die a natural death.

In practice, it turns out some people are incredibly resistant to extinction.

They keep texting.
They keep calling.
They keep trying to re-schedule.

Which leaves me feeling guilty — even though I know something important:

I am allowed to choose who has access to my time, my energy, and my heart.  Friendship is not an entitlement  It’s a mutual exchange.

And at this age?
I am fiercely protective of my emotional real estate.

I don’t need drama.
I don’t need trauma dumping.
I don’t need performative connection.

I need ease.
I need laughter.
I need people who make my nervous system feel like it can put its feet up and have a glass of wine.

This isn’t me being cold.

It’s me finally being honest.

We are not meant to be everything to everyone — and we are not obligated to keep relationships that drain us just because someone else wants them.

Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is quietly step back.

Even if they don’t get the hint.

Especially if they don’t.