The "Fake Friend" Fantasy

 

 

 

POV: You just watched your best friend enjoy life without your supervision.

The “Fake Friend” Fantasy

When I started seeing someone, I had this one friend.
The type who says, “Of course! Go live your life!” but means, “I expect to be invited to everything and will quietly combust if I’m not.”

So I did what decent people do — I extended the invite. Over and over. Movies? Dinners? Random Target runs? Every plan included a “Hey, wanna come?” like it was printed on the receipt.

Every time? Declined.
Too tired.
Didn’t want to be a third wheel.
“Next time, for sure.”

Cool. Understood. No pressure.

Then came The Post™.

One of those cryptic social media blasts — part poetry, part guilt trap — paired with a perfectly curated sad selfie and a quote from someone who definitely wasn’t talking about them.

Caption? Something like:
“I'm so sick of Fake-Ass Friends. Funny how people change. Some friends just… disappear.”

Comment section? A full-on pity parade.
One reply in particular stuck the landing:
“Damn right. I’d never ditch a real friend for some new date.”

Cue dramatic zoom.
Cue the full-body cringe.
Cue the unmistakable realization that this person had just rewritten history while starring in their own fanfiction, and I was the villain.

This wasn’t about being excluded.
This was about not being worshipped.
About someone else getting the energy they thought belonged to them by divine entitlement.

And when I finally — gently — pointed out the receipts (which included like... twelve text invites), the reaction wasn’t surprise or apology.
It was nuclear.

Apparently, inclusion only counts if you cancel your life and reschedule joy until it fits someone else’s comfort level.

Anyway, we don’t speak anymore.
But I do sleep better.

Diagnosis:
– Delusional Friendship Entitlement
– Selective Memory Syndrome
– Acute Public Martyrdom for Likes

Treatment:
Invite once. Screenshot. Move on.
If someone declines a dozen times and still complains about being left out, they’re not confused — they’re performative.
Muting is not petty. It’s preventative care.
Stop explaining yourself to people committed to misunderstanding you.
Trade ghosters for growers. You’ll breathe easier.

Moral:
People who flake by choice but complain by hobby aren’t friends — they’re subscribers to your emotional labor.
Cancel the subscription.
Set the boundary.
Then go enjoy your life… with people who actually show up.

#FakeFriendFantasy #SelectiveMemorySyndrome #EmotionalLabor #PityPostCulture #FlakeToMartyrPipeline #DailyDumb #BoundaryEnforced