Dear Wannabe Diary,

Although this is only my fifth entry, I can already see that this little therapy experiment is working wonders. Seriously, just sitting down, dumping my thoughts, and letting my brain word-vomit all over the page has been chef’s kiss amazing. It's like my internal chaos gets a chance to stretch its legs and wander around aimlessly, which is honestly my preferred state of being.

You know, I start these entries thinking I’m heading in one direction, only to veer off like a drunk driver on an empty highway. But somehow, it all works out in the end. Therapy? Expensive. Writing my crap here? Free.

The Harsh Reality of Friendship

You know what else I’ve realized? I’m basically friendless. And not in a cute, mysterious loner kind of way. More in the “I have no one to text when I see something mildly funny” way. It’s not like I’m socially awkward or allergic to people. I mean, back in school, I had a squad—five of us rolling deep, but really, it was just two that were ride-or-die. We were kinda popular (at least in our heads), and we had our little clique vibe going strong.

Adulting and the Friendship Black Hole

But fast forward to adulting, and it’s like we all got sucked into the black hole of life. Some went to uni, some started traveling, others became workaholics, and I... well, my partner and I moved in together and started building a life—just the two of us. We were deep into trying to start a family and hustling hard to grow our business. Suddenly, brunch dates became less about avocado toast and more about who could juggle work meetings with fertility appointments. And let me tell you, the only thing lonelier than being left on read is sitting at a table with friends-turned-strangers who are all reminiscing about that one festival you bailed on because you had to be up early to meet a client.

I swear I’m not bitter. (Okay, maybe a little.)

The Self-Care Dilemma

It’s weird, though. Lately, I’ve been feeling that friendship void more than ever. Maybe it’s because I’ve been trying to focus on me for once. You know, the whole “self-care” thing. But apparently, self-care doesn’t include magically manifesting new besties. And let’s be real—I’m not about to befriend just anyone. I’d rather roll solo than deal with drama. I want that real friendship. The kind you see in movies where they laugh-cry over ice cream and ugly breakup playlists.

And honestly? I don’t think I’ve ever had that. Like, let’s break it down.

Friendship Fails: The Greatest Hits

Exhibit A: The Dancing Diva

Ah, the first so-called "bestie"—let’s call her The Dancing Diva. She came on a 17-day trip with me and my parents because they kindly allowed me to invite a friend. Why her? Let’s just say I wasn’t spoiled for choice at the time.

The trip was fun enough until her true colors showed. She wasn’t just flaky—she was disloyal to everyone, including herself. Case in point: shortly after the trip, she hooked up with the guy I was crushing on. Mind you, this was my first real crush—the one that actually lasted longer than a week before giving me "the ick."

It didn’t stop there. Fast forward to a party where she decided to perform a one-woman circus act, climbing on all fours across a table, twerking, and grinding in front of my then-boyfriend (now my long-term partner). The kicker? Most of the other guys she performed for were taken, too. Classy.

But life takes people in unexpected directions. She went from a party girl to a serious artist. Now she hangs out with equally "artsy" friends, posting black-and-white videos where they’re half-naked, walking barefoot through the woods, twirling and calling it deep art. She also shares abstract photos none of us really get—but hey, we’re just not cultured enough.

In hindsight, she added a dash of drama to my life, but I’m not mad she’s dancing on someone else’s table these days.

Exhibit B: The Gaslighting Guru

Next up is the Gaslighting Guru. Let’s call her that because, honestly, she could teach a masterclass in twisting reality. Our story began in fifth grade when the teacher paired us for a project. At first, I couldn’t stand her—she got on my nerves in ways I didn’t even know were possible. But by some miracle (and maybe sheer boredom), we hit it off. By high school, we were inseparable.

Or so I thought.

From the start, she had this talent for flipping situations to make herself look good and me...not so much. One memorable moment? Back in my smoking days (a phase generously sponsored by Diva), I’d buy cigarettes with my carefully rationed allowance. She, on the other hand, treated my pack like it came with a “take one, free for all” sign. The one time I politely asked her to stop because I was running low, she flipped the script in front of everyone, painting me as some stingy villain for not sharing. Classic Guru move.

But the cigarettes were just the tip of the iceberg. If there was a way to make me feel small, she’d find it. Got upset? I was “overreacting.” Called her out? I was “being dramatic.” She was a pro at making me doubt my own feelings, all while maintaining her sweet, innocent façade in front of others. Gaslighting? She practically wrote the playbook.

Then came her “career glow-up.” She landed a job running social media for a small business and suddenly decided she was the authority on all things marketing. Never mind that her work mostly involved posting pictures on Facebook with zero strategy. Every hangout became a lecture on “engagement” and “content optimization,” complete with humblebrags about her expertise. Meanwhile, I was running actual digital campaigns, but calling her out would’ve made me look petty. So I smiled, nodded, and resisted the urge to scream into the void.

Our friendship eventually fizzled out after she broke up with my best guy friend (they’d been together for years) and, during a visit to the U.S., met a guy, married him, and moved there to make the relocation official.

When we run into each other, we’re polite and friendly, but the connection we once had is long gone. We never fought; we just drifted apart. And honestly? Neither of us seems interested in rekindling things.

Exhibit C: The Part-Time Pal

Finally, there’s The Part-Time Pal. She’s still in my life—not in a “share-every-deep-thought” kind of way, but we keep in touch. She’s a genuinely good person, someone I know I could count on if I ever needed her. That said, neither of us is each other’s top priority these days.

Between kids, partners, and work, finding time to meet up feels like trying to align the planets. But when we do manage to hang out, it’s always a good time—we catch up on gossip, laugh about the chaos of life, and reminisce about the moments we’ve missed.

Her relationships, though? They could fill an entire season of a Netflix drama. One ex, in particular, was the poster child for narcissistic behavior. He didn’t just belittle her—he gaslit her at every turn. When she got pregnant, he pressured her to get an abortion and disappeared. Then he reappeared, bringing even more baggage.

As it turns out, he wasn’t just emotionally abusive; he was also a drug dealer. She had no idea until one day a package of cocaine showed up at her doorstep. Apparently, he had it sent to her address, thinking that if it got intercepted, she’d take the fall. And she still stayed with him.

His parenting skills weren’t any better. Once, he told their three-year-old son that girls shouldn’t drink Coca-Cola because it would make them fat. Can you imagine? And when she finally tried to leave him, he threatened to take the kids and make sure she’d never see them again. Classic narcissist move.

Thankfully, she eventually found the strength to break free. Now, she’s with someone new—a kind, respectful guy who seems like a total upgrade. From what she says, he’s great with her kids, and honestly, I couldn’t be happier for her.

Our friendship, though, has its ups and downs. When she’s in a stable place, she tends to focus on other friendships, and I sometimes feel like I’m her backup plan—the person she knows will always be there. I noticed it most when she was on maternity leave with her second child and didn’t have many people around. I spent so much time at her place back then, grabbing coffee and keeping her company.

But now? Life’s busier for both of us. We don’t see each other often, and when we do, it feels weird to unload everything that’s been going on. Half the time, I can’t even remember what I wanted to share!

And then there was the birthday incident. She invited all the girls from our old high school friend group but didn’t include me. That one stung—not because I don’t like those girls, but because it made me question things. Did I do something wrong? Or is it just Exhibit B (Friend #2) stirring the pot again? Let’s be real—she’s probably still running her little smear campaigns.

Still, I don’t dwell on it. Friend #3 and I may not be as close as we once were, but when we do connect, it’s meaningful. Our lives have taken different paths, and that’s okay. Not every friendship needs to be a daily thing to matter. Some just exist in their own rhythm, and I’ve made peace with that.

Wannabe… Selective, Not Friendless

Here’s the thing—when I say I don’t have friends, it’s not that I’m lonely. I’ve got my partner, my kids, my family. My life is full, chaotic, and honestly, pretty great. But sometimes I miss having a solid girlfriend squad, you know? Someone to grab a drink with, complain about life to, and laugh at memes with.

At this point, I’m not looking for a whole group—just one person who gets it. Someone who isn’t secretly competing with me, using me, or ghosting me every other month. Is that too much to ask?

Signing off with a mix of nostalgia, sarcasm, and a pinch of hope,

Wannabe Better at Picking Friends