Call me toxic, but I have always had an easier time getting along with men. Maybe it’s just how I’m wired, or maybe (and let’s be real) it’s the product of some traumatic experiences with female friendships—stories for another day.
But lately, I’ve been feeling the loss of these friendships in a way I wasn’t fully prepared for. I’m talking about strictly platonic friendships. These were my ride-or-die friends since grade school and high school—the guys who had my back, who I laughed with until I cried, who knew every dumb story and inside joke. Over the years, half of them came out as gay, and the other half are now married or in serious relationships. And I’ve always known this would happen. I’ve always known there would come a time when things would shift, when priorities would change, and when, ultimately, I wouldn’t be in the picture like I used to be.
I’ve never been the type to fight this transition. I get it. If it ever came down to my male friends choosing me or their girlfriends, I expect them to choose their partners. I respect relationships too much to ever want to be the source of tension, and I’ve always maintained a level of distance out of that same respect. Because let’s be real—having a female BFF when you’re in a relationship can be weird to some people, and I don’t take it personally.
But then, there are friendships that hurt to lose. Recently, I’ve been feeling it hard with one of my closest male friends—the one who’s been there through thick and thin, the one I was attached at the hip with in high school, the one I could always be 100% myself with. And suddenly, this fuck face has been MIA.
I’ve had things happen in my life that I wanted to tell him about, things I know he would have cared about before. I’ve sent messages—Merry Christmas, happy birthday, happy Kwanzaa, the whole nine. I’ve reached out, asked if we could talk, asked if I did something wrong. And nothing. Crickets. He reads my messages and doesn’t reply.
And you know what? I’m done.
I am too grown to chase people down for a friendship. If someone doesn’t value the energy, love, and loyalty I bring to a friendship, then I refuse to keep watering something that’s already dead. Friendships are mutual—they take effort from both people, and I will not be left hanging, wondering, or feeling sad over someone who clearly doesn’t care enough to communicate.
Losing male friends has been an adjustment, but at the end of the day, I’d rather be surrounded by people who want to be here, who reciprocate, and who make me feel like I belong in their lives—not like an afterthought. Moving forward, it’s what I choose in life.
xoxo,
Alejandra