When A Friend Says “I Didn’t Feel Like Coming Out Today”
The rain in Montréal was hitting hard that spring day. Not the gentle Vancouver drizzle I’m used to, but a curtain of water that soaked through your coat in seconds. I was sitting in a cute small café in Westmount, watching it streak down the windows, waiting for someone I considered a friend.
It was supposed to be simple – a lunch date at a French bistro. Something to look forward to on a Thursday. I’d pulled on a soft sweater that made me feel more like myself, showed up on time, maybe even a few minutes early, because that’s how I move in the world: prepared, considerate, quietly hoping that thoughtfulness will be mirrored.
When they finally arrived, forty minutes late and dripping wet, I was ready to let it go. I was even glad to see them. But then they said something that stuck with me the entire train ride home:
“I wasn’t going to come today. I told my neurofeedback technician I didn’t feel like it. But she told me I should get out and see someone, so… here I am.”
Here I am.
A phrase that should have landed like comfort. Instead, it felt like a blow cloaked in honesty. I actually laughed inside, not out of joy, but because I didn’t know what else to do. My shoulders tensed. My breathing turned shallow. That familiar sense of uneasiness returned – the one that shows up when my body knows something before my brain does.
I had just been demoted from friend to therapeutic assignment. From someone they chose to someone prescribed. And her honesty? It stung.
The Moment Your Body Knows
You know that feeling when you walk into a space that looked good in photos, but something just feels off? That is what happened in my nervous system. A quiet internal alarm. Something wasn’t right.
But instead of honouring it, I did what I’ve always done. I made excuses for them. They’re going through a lot. At least they showed up. They’re here now, and that’s what matters. I twisted my disappointment into something more acceptable, something easier to carry. I minimized my feelings so they wouldn’t take up too much space.
The Design of Unequal Relationships
Lately I’ve been thinking about relationships through a design lens. In good design, every element has a reason to be there. Nothing is accidental. But when I looked at some of my friendships, I started to ask: What is my actual function here?
Am I the emotional vitamin they know they “should” take, even if they’d rather not?
I realized I have spent years designing myself around other people’s limitations. Making myself more palatable. More flexible. Less… everything.
The Exhaustion of Constant Accommodation
Here’s something I wish I had learned sooner:
You can’t design your way out of someone else’s ambivalence.
You show up and be your amazing self, choose the coziest restaurant, bring your most curious and generous self to the table – and still end up feeling like a chore on someone’s to-do list.
The real question isn’t how do I make them want me?
It’s why am I trying so hard to be wanted by someone who clearly doesn’t?
Thoughts and Going Forward
Here is what I have started doing:
The 24-Hour Rule
When someone says something that feels off, I wait a full day before responding. When I am no longer in emotional triage, clarity shows up.
The Energy Audit
I track how I feel before and after I see someone. Like a food diary, but for connection. Some people leave me lighter. Others leave me threadbare. I trust the pattern.
The Reciprocity Check
Who initiates? Who remembers? Who makes plans? I am not keeping score – I am mapping consistency.
The Simple Boundary
Instead of saying “It’s fine,” I say “That doesn’t work for me.” No drama. No defense.
When Friendship Feels Like Freelance Work
At one point, I realized I was treating friendship like freelance labour. I was the one pitching ideas, following up, managing emotional timelines. They? Occasionally responsive. Vaguely interested. Never matching my energy.
There’s a difference between being busy and being ambivalent.
Busy people reschedule. Ambivalent people show up late and tell you they had to be convinced to come.
Note to Self:
The Invitation to Choose Yourself
Here is what I wish someone had told me earlier: Choosing yourself is not selfish. It is intelligent design.
It is building a life where the people who show up actually want to be there.
You are allowed to crave real presence. You are allowed to want to be someone’s genuine yes, not their mental health homework. The kind of friend people feel lucky to know, not obligated to see.
The next time someone says, “I almost didn’t come,” pay attention to how that lands. Let it inform how much of yourself you continue to offer. Let it shape your future yes.
You are not a backup plan. You are not a chore. You are not the thing someone drags themselves to out of guilt or advice.
You are allowed to be chosen joyfully, the way someone rushes to catch a good sunset. Remember your value and what you bring to the table: light, love, and compassion.
Ask yourself: Am I holding space for people who do not hold it back? Am I making time for those who see me as optional? Am I excusing behavior that leaves me quietly depleted?
It is a hard thing to sit with. We want to be generous. We want to understand. But understanding others should never cost us our self-respect.
Friendship should feel like a warm welcoming home. It should feel mutual. It should not leave you walking away with a lump in your throat and a story you are too embarrassed to tell.
You are allowed to want more. Not more attention, not more drama, but more presence. More joy in the showing up. More ease in the being together.
The people who choose you eagerly, who light up when they see you, who never make you feel like an obligation – those are your people. Hold space for them. Let them guide your future yes.
This reflection represents personal insights and is intended for contemplative purposes. For professional guidance regarding relationship challenges, please consult a qualified therapist or counsellor.
