Some connections nourish you, others quietly drain you—the challenge is learning to tell the difference before it costs you too much.
We’ve all met someone who smiles to your face, sends heart emojis, and tells you “I’m always here”—yet your gut keeps whispering… something’s off.
Real friendship isn’t a performance; it’s a pattern. And patterns show up in how you feel after you leave the conversation, what happens when you set a boundary, and whether your joy is met with celebration or a quiet side-eye.
I learned this the hard way years ago after pivoting from finance into writing. A few “cheerleaders” loved the story arc—but went radio silent when I stopped being convenient. That contrast was clarifying.
If your inner alarm bells are ringing, you’re not being dramatic; you’re being observant. Let’s map the signals that matter—so you can make cleaner decisions, protect your energy, and invest in people who invest back.
1. Your wins make them uncomfortable
Pay attention to how they respond when good things happen to you—promotions, milestones, tiny personal victories. Real friends expand to make room for your joy. Pretend friends go small: the delayed “Congrats!!” text, the quick pivot back to their issues, or the faint praise that somehow shrinks your moment.
I saw this when I ran my first trail race. A true friend tracked my progress and left a goofy sign at mile seven. A “friend” messaged later: “Nice… must be easy when you don’t have kids.” That little jab told the truth.
What to do? Don’t over-explain or shrink your light. Share wins with people who treat them like a shared playlist, not background noise. Your celebration isn’t bragging; it’s data about who’s safe.
2. You keep leaving interactions feeling smaller
Do you walk away doubting yourself, apologizing for having needs, or replaying what you said? That residue matters. Sometimes it’s not overt meanness—it’s micro-dismissals, jokes at your expense, or advice that subtly undercuts your instincts.
Mid-conversation test: do you feel seen or scrutinized? Do you feel steadier—or scrambled?
Your nervous system is often a better truth-teller than your head. Whether it’s a sinking pit in your stomach or persistent unease, that aftertaste reveals more than words ever will. Frequent invalidation can erode emotional resilience, self-worth, and even mental health over time.
And remember a line I highlighted recently: “Their happiness is their responsibility, not yours.” If you’re contorting yourself to keep someone unthreatened, that’s not friendship—that’s emotional caretaking dressed up as loyalty.
3. They only show up when you’re useful
Notice the cadence: they appear during your high-resource moments (you have time, contacts, or visibility) and disappear when you’re struggling or when there’s nothing to gain. The giveaway is transaction energy—IOU tallies, favor accounting, or strategic check-ins before they ask for something.
During my analyst years, I learned to spot it in emails: three paragraphs of flattery, one buried ask. In personal life, it looks like “Hey stranger!” followed by “Quick question…”
A practical reset: move from automatic yeses to thoughtful maybes. Delay your replies, offer a smaller version of help, or point to a neutral resource. Real friends respect limits. Pretend friends punish limits. The difference becomes obvious the first time you don’t deliver.
4. Your boundaries trigger outsized reactions
Say you can’t make the trip, need more notice, or won’t discuss a topic—and watch what happens. Healthy friends adjust, even if they’re disappointed. Pretend friends escalate: guilt trips, silent treatment, or character assassinations disguised as “feedback.”
Here’s the reframe: the boundary isn’t the problem; it’s the reveal. If your “no” detonates the relationship, the relationship was wired to explode.
I remind clients of this line when they worry about setting limits: “Being human means inevitably disappointing and hurting others, and the sooner you accept this reality, the easier it becomes to navigate life’s challenges.” Disappointment is survivable. Disrespect is not a price of admission.
And here’s the kicker—once you stop fearing that someone will leave if you’re not available 24/7, you get to see who’s there because they want to be, not because you’re constantly bending over backwards.
5. They triangulate and keep you off-balance
Watch for the whisper-network dynamic: “I shouldn’t say this, but…” followed by intel about your other friends—especially if it nudges you to distrust your own people. That’s not closeness; that’s control.
Half the time the “concern” is projection. The other half, it’s bait to see if you’ll share something they can bank. I learned to ask, “Why are you telling me this?” It either ends the leak or exposes the agenda.
As Rudá Iandê has said, “We live immersed in an ocean of stories, from the collective narratives that shape our societies to the personal tales that define our sense of self.”
Choose storytellers who use narrative to deepen connection, not divide your circle. If they bring everyone’s worst moments to your doorstep, assume yours is being delivered elsewhere.
6. The friendship only works on their terms
Does the relationship have a single acceptable script—when you meet, what you talk about, how long you can be happy before you must pivot back to them? If you try to rewrite a scene, do they pout, withdraw, or accuse you of changing?
Rigid friendships aren’t relationships; they’re roles. And roles choke authenticity. After reading Rudá Iandê’s new book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos (I know, I’ve mentioned it before; it genuinely helped), I started noticing where I was performing to keep the peace. His insights nudged me to quit auditioning and show up as myself.
Try this: name what you actually want from the friendship (more reciprocity, less venting, deeper play). If you can’t ask without fearing fallout, that’s your cue.
True friends adapt to the relationship’s natural seasons. Pretend friends insist on climate control.
7. They like you insecure
Some people are extra kind when you’re in self-doubt—but go weirdly cool when you stabilize. It’s not love; it’s leverage. As long as you’re unsure, they’re central. When you grow, you need them less—and their supply dries up.
Tell-tale signs: they amplify your flaws as “honesty,” make jokes that hit tender spots, or “help” by listing everything that could go wrong. Growth becomes a threat to the friendship.
Back yourself anyway. “When we let go of the need to be perfect, we free ourselves to live fully—embracing the mess, complexity, and richness of a life that's delightfully real.” The right friends cheer as you get sturdier. They don’t need you small to feel big.
If someone keeps you in a loop of doubt, they’re not building with you—they’re farming you for ego fuel.
8. Repairs don’t stick
Every relationship has its bumps. The true test of friendship isn’t zero conflict—it’s how swiftly and sincerely the rupture gets repaired. Pretend apologies like “I’m sorry you feel that way” or “Let’s just move on” often serve to end the conversation—not change the underlying pattern.
Here’s my yardstick: a real apology includes specifics, an action plan, and follow-through—without turning you into their emotional process manager. If you’re always handling the aftermath, you’re not a friend—you’re HR.
This isn’t just intuition; research confirms it. Behavioral repair—action backed by consistency—is more effective at rebuilding trust than merely verbal apologies.
Effective, lasting repair requires behavioral change, not just words.
As therapists and conflict-resolution experts note, trust is behavioral, not verbal—look for reliability over charm. When efforts to repair consistently fall flat or repeat without change, it’s not sensitivity—it’s a clear pattern.
Some doors close quietly. You don’t owe every friendship a dramatic exit—just enough clarity to avoid re-entering on the same terms.
Let me add a quick resource that genuinely shifted how I navigate all this. Rudá Iandê’s Laughing in the Face of Chaos challenged a belief I didn’t realize I held—that I had to keep everyone comfortable to be “good.”
The book inspired me to honor my body’s signals first, instead of gaslighting myself with logic. One line I keep on my desk: “You have both the right and responsibility to explore and try until you know yourself deeply.” That permission changed my friendships for the better.
Final thoughts
You don’t need a courtroom’s worth of proof to step back. You need a handful of consistent signals and the courage to believe them.
Friendship should feel like spaciousness—room to grow, fail, celebrate, and tell the truth. When it doesn’t, you’re allowed to update the cast of your life without writing anyone the role of villain.
If this list stirred something, start small. Stop over-explaining. Share your wins with people who clap. Put limits where you leak energy. And notice who adapts when you change the dance.
Invest where the returns are mutual. The rest? Bless it, release it, and go build the kind of friendships you can trust with your whole, messy, beautiful life.
If You Were a Healing Herb, Which Would You Be?
Each herb holds a unique kind of magic — soothing, awakening, grounding, or clarifying.
This 9-question quiz reveals the healing plant that mirrors your energy right now and what it says about your natural rhythm.
✨ Instant results. Deeply insightful.
