I'm Coming to Terms with Always Being in One-Sided Friendships

I am a zero or 100 person. There is nothing in between—no 25 percent, no 82 percent or even 99.97 percent. All or nothing. My family’s like this, too. Really bad at sports or Team USA athlete. No musical talent or self-taught on Youtube in three weeks. Pinnacle of health or life-threatening kidney disease.

While I don't possess any extraordinary (or extreme) skills, I am an excellent friend. Moving heaven and earth for you? I’d do it. Hell, too? No problem. If a friend called me, right now, and said they needed help, even if they were an hour away and I already had a full schedule for the day, I’d make it happen. I might still do it if there weren’t an emergency, and they were just coming from out of town. In short, if you are my friend, I will give you everything. From a young age, I have remarked that most people will not reciprocate. But only as I became an adult did I finally make peace with one-sided friendships.

As a kid, it was lonely and disappointing, a volatile barometer of self-worth that never quite seemed to measure up. Why did they not want to play with me? Why didn’t they invite me to after-school hangouts when they knew word would get around? I was not someone you would call top-of-mind.

This was probably most embodied in a teenage friendship I still recall vividly. I really admired this girl—and we were friends. However, I was never in a formal friend group, while she had multiple. She always expressed a desire to hang out, but nothing would ever happen until I’d ask. In the meantime, I saw photos making rounds on social media, flaunting what else she’d been doing—while ignoring my texts. Finally, I point-blank asked her if she even wanted to be friends. Though she replied the affirmative, to this day I’m still the one who reaches out first.

I was shackled to the idea that “good friends” act a certain way.

While frustrating and, at the time, hurtful, I was also luckily imbued with my parents’ laissez-faire, DGAF attitude about what other people thought. I wasn’t mad. I just didn’t want to feel like I was wasting my time and bothering her. My mother instilled in us a mentality that one should not wallow, and eventually, I came to the conclusion that if I kept waiting for people—to invite me, to call me, to do anything—I’d likely be waiting my whole life.

It was about that point in high school that I quit. That was my first taste of freedom.

Remember, I’m a zero or 100 person. So that means I didn’t quit being a good friend—but I quit being so invested in whether others would reciprocate. I was shackled to the idea that “good friends” act a certain way. When I let go of that expectation and decided that I would accept what someone could give me and nothing more, I found that the mental clutter dissipated. If they initiated something, great. If they didn’t, I wouldn't be spending weeks hung up about it. I could use that time to do something else, like write a novel, start a book club and learn to dance. (Check, check, check.) In short, I’m OK with one-sided friendships.

However, I wanted to know if this was…healthy. So, I spoke with Dr. Suzanne Wallach, a therapist and executive director of SoCal DBT (short for dialectical behavioral therapy, which focuses o interpersonal effectiveness, emotion regulation and mindfulness, among other things). She told me that if I didn’t have resentment, guilt or the feeling of continually sacrificing my own needs, then I’m good. However, it’s worth continually taking a temp check from time to time. If you find yourself always listening, feeling drained, unappreciated and not heard, it might be time to say sayonara.

“Healthy friendships aren’t always perfectly reciprocal at every moment,” she explains. “There are times when one person may be struggling, grieving, deep in the weeds of parenting, depressed or overwhelmed with work, etc. and they may genuinely need a friend more. That imbalance doesn’t automatically make the friendship unhealthy. One-sided friendships become problematic when it’s chronic, unspoken or rooted in obligation.”

As I’ve continued to forge community and friendship as a recent-ish New York transplant, this early lesson in adult friendship has come in handy. Accepting people as they are and not what I want them to be is a whole lot more fair and less disappointing. It also makes an invitation feel so much more special. (The first time I got an invite in New York, I called my mom and almost cried.) Ultimately, I’ve come to the conclusion that everyone’s doing the best they can.

Someday, as Dr. Wallach counselled, I might want to reevaluate some of these relationships as they evolve (or devolve). Maybe my boundaries will change. And if I do find someone who does want to put in 100 percent, I’ll be right there with them.