the problem with friendship

Dec 12, 2025

The problem with friendship is that I need it too much.

No, that’s not it. Start again.

The problem with friendship is that people remember what I tell them, they assemble all the fragments that I have accidentally disclosed over the course of many conversations, they are remembering where I grew up or what I’m allergic to, they know some of the darker parts of me, they witness the fragility of my transness or my pain.

The problem with friendship is that I trust too much, and then when a friend decides to leave me, my heart has been too open, and I grieve it too much.

That’s not quite it. (But friendship does feel tied to grief.)

It’s easier with romance. I expect romantic relationships to end even as they begin. Recently an romantic attraction that I was involved in came to nothing, and someone remarked to me, “you dodged a 2 to 5 year relationship just then” and I thought, yes, I do carve things out in what I am about to lose. I measure the timespan of what will crumble.

The problem with friendship is that I am often lonely.

And, the problem with friendship is that I love having friends.

I am reading Dean Spade just now. I wanted to understand how to stay productive and loving whilst fighting the good fight. I was hoping to get my head around what to do when community leaders fail us, cancellations happen, trust is broken at a higher level, and politics divide us so deeply that we can no longer work towards collective liberation.

Instead I find myself confronted with the fact that powerful friendships will keep us alive, and that is a skillset all its own.

What is it about me that when a friend says, “I love you,” that I want to reply, “But you don’t even know me” when in reality they do, they really do. They know me, or the parts of me I have forgotten to conceal. And they do love me. (Which feels like awful news, right in the core of me.)

I am 48. For most of my adult life (from the age of 22 to the age of 36) I was in a romantic relationship with someone who told me constantly that I was not very good at anything, but also that I was bad at friendships. The message was often the same. That person is just taking pity on you. They don’t understand you the way I do. Do you secretly want to sleep with them? Do you know that people only like you because they think you are flirting with them? You realise you are like that with everyone and nobody trusts you?

You’re too pretty to be a boy. You don’t know how to wear those clothes. Bisexuality makes you a freakshow, and you’re embarrasing.

It took me 13 years to understand that I had been carefully and consistently isolated from everyone I loved. Did she even have an awareness that she had done that? Probably not. I bet she is largely unaware of all the suffering I experienced in that long, defining connection.

Sometimes flashbacks paralyse me and I remember new things that happened. Last night I dreamt I was stuck inside her house, and she was coming home to hurt me. I dream about that kind of thing at least once a week. I guess that’s why I own so many nightlights.

But back to friendships.

The problem with friendships is that it leads to liberation of the self. So you have to try it, even if scared. There is no option but to sometimes place your heart in the hands of another. Interdependence is inevitable. What fucking terrible news.

Lately I am also trying not to curate myself for each different friend, just be the same guy all round, and that is harder than it sounds. I am tired of being a kaleidoscopic person. I am tired all the time. This is tiring. I yearn for rest.

All I can do is acknowledge that there is no safety. Living alone does not help, taking holidays alone does not help. There is no cure for needing another. Rejection and loss are inevitable. Yearning is equally expected.

But so is joy. So are the tiny sparks of light from one trusted heart to another. I must also believe in this. I must find a way to believe in this.

This year I am doing New Years Eve with friends who have invited me because they like me. Although that feels improbable, it is seemingly true. For many years I would have stood aside, pleaded the need for rest or solitude, so I am going against the grain this year.

It might be terrible! But then again - the possibility remains - what if its not?

What.

If.

Its.

Not.