A year ago, I published an essay called Friendship Stuff.
I recently re-read it and felt so many feelings for the person I was when I wrote it. I was navigating making new friends, struggling with my own identity, and hitting rock-bottom as far as confidence goes.
My life has changed in so many ways since then – so I wanted to follow up with part II. This isn’t because I’m a phenomenally great friend, or because I know more about friendship than you do – it’s because I think we could all benefit from being more deliberate in how we handle these life-giving relationships.
We’re so deliberate and strategic about our careers. We invest so much time and effort into the health of our romantic relationships. But when it comes to friendships — the stuff that literally impacts your wellbeing and happiness and statistically lasts longer than all the other relationships – we are passive. We assume they’ll just tend to themselves and always be around, like the dogs in our building compound.
That’s not how it happens. Someone’s feeding those dogs, and someone had better be feeding your friendships. So without wasting any time, here’s more friendship stuff, after a year of happy memories.
If you’re shy or intimidated by people, it can cost you some opportunities
For a long time, I struggled with this. Particularly because pregnancy and motherhood has DOMINATED my headspace for the last two and a half years. I felt like I didn’t have a lot to say to people. And whatever I had to say wasn’t interesting enough.
But the more I observe people, the more I realize something: No one is as intimidating as we build them up to be. I know I’m not. My friends make it a point to tell me this very, very often. Really, they do it all the time.
Self-consciousness is, in many ways, a form of self-absorption. When you’re constantly thinking about how you’re being perceived, you’re not really present for anyone else. You’re so wrapped up in managing your image that you miss out on the possibility of meaningful connections.
Writing online sort of cracked that door open for me. People relate to honesty in ways that are surprising, and when you offer a glimpse of your real self (in whatever capacity feels normal for you) you’ll find some people that appreciate that.
Acknowledge your own chaos
I’ve learned the hard way that being a good friend means confronting your own chaos and flaws. And I don’t mean the kind of flaws you bring up in a job interview, like “I’m just too caring” or “I’m too honest.” Enough of that people pleaser nonsense. Own up to the ways in which you’re a serial disappointer.
I’m terrible at gift-giving, and every time a friend showers me with thoughtful gestures, I feel guilty because I know I’m bad at reciprocating.
I can get caught up in my own life and forget to check in, even when I know I should.
I prefer avoiding difficult conversations because I don’t have the energy for conflict.
Up until a few years ago, I used to regularly miss things – weddings, birthdays, occasions – I always assumed that if enough people were there, my absence wouldn’t matter. And therefore, I didn’t need to make an effort.
I could go on.
But for people who pride themselves in having conflict-free friendships, just know that the absence of external conflict doesn’t mean there’s no internal conflict – on one side or both. This stuff doesn’t evaporate because you choose to be chill about it. Internal conflict creates a slow-burning fire that eventually comes out in passive-aggressive comments, simmering resentment, or just a general weirdness that wasn’t there before.
The stuff I mentioned in my list – those aren’t cute quirks. They’re annoying, and I’m fully aware of it. Anyone who’s been close to me for any stretch of time has had to put up with my shortcomings. And I’ve had to work at them if I wanted to keep my friends around.
Cut to today, as far as possible, I don’t care how much I have to spend or how inconvenient it might be with a baby – I’ve started doing my best to show up for things. And I try to remember to give gifts. If I haven’t responded to a text from a week ago, I don’t just shame-ghost the person indefinitely – I sheepishly reply a week later and apologize.
I can’t expect to have better friendships if I’m unwilling to acknowledge the ways I fall short.
Ask your friends for things
Alongside the self-improvement stuff I mentioned earlier, the flipside is the trap we fall into where we think we can optimize ourselves into being the easiest, most convenient friend in the world. We believe we can make ourselves more likable by eliminating any trace of need or demand. But friendship doesn’t thrive on convenience.
Trying to streamline yourself into someone who never needs anything only distances you from genuine connection. Friendship is about reciprocity. And we’re all bafflingly inconvenient, every single one of us. It took me a while to stop pretending otherwise.
When I became a mum, I had to become comfortable with asking for things. Actually, that’s not true at all. I avoided it for as long as I could. I wanted to be the most hassle-free mum people had ever met. How does she do it – they would look at each other and ask in wonder.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, my friends saw me obviously flailing when we’d go out – and they stepped in and asked if they could help. Before I learnt to ask, I just practiced saying yes when people offered things: “Can I hold her while you finish your dinner?” or “Let me take her for a bit so you can get some work done.”
It was a slow process, realizing that it’s okay to need help and that people don’t mind stepping in. And eventually, I started asking. I’m here to report that things are fine, everyone doesn’t hate my guts for it.
So far, so good.
It’s okay if you’re not the best friend
These headings really make me feel like I’m talking to a kindergartener. But life is one big kindergarten only – and one of the harder lessons I’ve had to learn is that just because someone doesn’t like me or want to be my friend, it doesn’t mean there’s something about myself that I need to fix or change.
If I noticed that someone got to know me and didn’t actively make an effort to become my best friend in the whole wide world, I used to take it as feedback — like I had to do something to win them over. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that someone’s disinterest means you’re lacking.
But I’ve realized it’s usually about compatibility, not some fundamental flaw. Not everyone’s going to get you, and that’s completely fine. Friendship isn’t about winning people over. That’s B2B sales, babe.
Now in line with the same heading of not being the best friend, I’ve also had this issue and I’m not sure if it’s just me and my neuroticism, but stay with me – I used to have this thing where if I didn’t feel extremely important as a friend, I deemed myself not important at all. I had this need to be the best friend, like I had to outrank everyone else in someone’s life. If they seemed to have a big social circle, I’d automatically feel less invested because, well, they clearly didn’t “need” me.
A friend of mine helped me understand this and I can’t remember the exact example she used but I’m gonna go with this:
It’s like if your friends are different cuisines (assuming you’re really into a bunch of cuisines and have zero flexibility in your preferences cuz u crazy) and if you’re craving Japanese one day, it’s not like you’d just eat Mexican food and that’d be the same thing –– wait this analogy is really NOT working out.
Let’s try again.
Okay, it’s like if your friends are different spices and condiments. It’s not like pepper is the same as haldi. Or like jeera and coriander can be used interchangeably (they cannot!) You don’t replace one with the other, they each bring something unique to the table.
My role in someone’s life doesn’t diminish just because there are others in the mix. The same way, it doesn’t matter how many friends someone has, they can’t just be substituted for one another. There’s enough room in everyone’s life for different kinds of friendships, and they’re all irreplaceable in their own way.
So stop being a jealous weirdo. And please use fewer aunty-in-the-kitchen analogies.
You’re your own social director
As adults, we have unprecedented freedom in choosing our friends. Nobody is forcing you to sit with the same bunch of kids in class everyday. It’s not mandatory to hang out with your colleagues after work. I for one don’t even have colleagues that I see at work.
By the time you’re an adult, many of your important friendships would’ve been formed through proximity, and we tend to get used to that. Being in the same class, living in the same neighborhood — that’s partly why we feel like making friends as an adult is much harder.
Adult friendships are more intentional. We get to decide who we want to invest time in based on shared interests, values, and experiences. But with that freedom comes a burden: We no longer have built-in structures like school or college to facilitate and maintain those connections.
You’re not compelled to see people all the time. There’s no social director. It’s on us, individually, to be our own social director. That means keeping adult friendships active takes effort. You have to schedule time, check in, and consciously nurture those bonds.
And when life gets busy with work, family, or personal commitments, friendships can easily fall to the bottom of the list. Try and find a healthy balance, in whatever way you can.
“They’re probably doing great!”
I’d say this applies more to friends that aren’t inner circle, but are still friends.
A few years ago, staying in touch meant actively reaching out to people — texting them directly, having a one-on-one conversation, or even making the effort to catch up in person. Am I the only one that feels like WhatsApp has mostly group conversations and fewer one-on-one chats? Is this just me?
I think this is happening because now, you can see a live-action play-by-play of people’s lives online, so unprompted messages or calls can almost feel intrusive. They seem like they’re doing great — what’s there to ask?
It almost feels redundant to message them and strike up a conversation when a lot is already laid out in posts and stories. In many conversations I have with friends, especially when we’re catching up after a while, I’ve noticed how often we reference whatever we’ve seen online: Oh, I saw you traveled to Vietnam recently, how was it? Hey, you met this person the other day – how was that?
We convince ourselves that we know how our friends are doing because we see what they post online. It’s easy, it’s passive, and it makes us feel like we’re in the loop. But it’s a super shallow form of connection. It’s not that what’s shared isn’t real, it’s just incomplete. There are layers of our lives, both the ordinary and the extraordinary, that don’t translate into content.
Just something to keep in mind the next time you think of a friend and wonder what they’re up to. By all means go and check their stories or whatever, but also send them a message. Or call them, if you’re one of those freaks.
Have lots and lots of compassion for your friends
Loving your friends doesn’t mean liking everything about them. It’s accepting that we all carry hidden layers of confusion, doubt, and shame — and these traits unfortunately don’t announce themselves upfront. They just show up in sneaky, unexpected ways.
When a friend’s behavior doesn’t make sense, our first instinct is to analyze it, to try and solve the mystery of why they do what they do. But more often than not, there’s nothing to solve, nothing to fix.
Let them do things different from how you’d do them. We’re all confusing, inconsistent, and full of contradictions — and that’s part of the deal. It’s arrogant to assume you know what’s right for everyone anyway, or that what works for you should work for someone else.
Your friends are allowed to ask for your advice and then ignore it without you taking it personally. Allow people to be themselves.
My own friends have done this for me countless times, and I’m so grateful for it.
A more recent example was soon after the miscarriage, when I thought I’d dealt with it really well – I’d published the essay, processed the feelings, said all the right things and convinced everyone I was so brave and mature.
But then all it took was one evening out after a few drinks – it all came unraveling. Not in the way you’d expect though. I got home and was gonna make dinner, and I needed to pressure cook some beef (oh no another kitchen example!!) But I had no idea how many whistles it took, or how much water to add to the pressure cooker.
So, naturally, I started crying.
And then I video called a WhatsApp group with FIVE WHOLE PEOPLE in it (and for some reason, most of them answered) and they talked me through my cooking, watching me as I cut onions, telling me how much water to add, and how long it should cook for. I finished up cooking, we laughed a bit, and that was all.
I know these girls are my friends – not because they picked up – but because they didn’t feel the need to bring it up the next day. No one had to message me going – So what was that about? They just let me be. They understood that I was unraveling over something deeper and that we didn’t have to talk about it.
Friendship isn’t always about solving things. Sometimes it’s about standing by someone, silently holding space for their mess. The greatest act of love can be letting your friend fall apart and knowing you don’t have to put them back together, you just need to be there while they figure it out. That takes a lot of compassion.
On the subject of compassion, I’d like to make an extra mention here:
If there’s something about your friend that annoys you — some silly habit or the way they handle things — it doesn’t always need to be talked about. Not everything warrants an “open, honest conversation.”
You don’t need to sit down with your friends and air out the small stuff you’d change – that doth not a healthy friendship make.
All that does is stir up unnecessary conflict and bruise egos, and for what? If it’s not a deal breaker, learn to cope. If your friend brings more good into your life than bad, you’re already lucky.
Extra importantly: You don’t need to vent about it to anyone else either — especially not mutual friends. It can be tempting to seek validation, to hear someone say, “Yeah, that bugs me too.” But that’s a slippery slope, one that leads straight into gossip. What starts as a harmless vent can quickly turn into something toxic pretty fast. Keep it to yourself. Other people’s flaws don’t need to be picked apart.
What insect can suck it?
See? We’re done with kitchen stories. It’s time for science.
It was the 1860s and some guy sent Charles Darwin a bunch of flowers from Madagascar (queens supporting queens!!) They were orchids. But not just any orchids. These were the Angraecum sesquipedale. And what was special about them is this: You know that straw type thing where there’s nectar at the end of it – in this orchid, that was almost 30 cm long – that’s almost the length of a 12-inch-ruler.
Now Darwin being Darwin, took one look at this flower and famously wrote to a friend: “Good heavens, what insect can suck it?”
He figured, if there’s a flower with a nectar spur this long, there has to be something out there with a tongue to match. He then flat-out predicted that somewhere in Madagascar, there existed an insect with a super long tongue.
Darwin died without ever seeing the insect he predicted.
But fast forward to 1907, more than two decades after his death, scientists discovered a moth with — you guessed it — a freakishly long tongue. They named the moth Xanthopan morganii praedicta. It was literally named after the fact that Darwin predicted its existence.
Let’s take a moment to hug each other over some wholesome science lore.
We all think of Darwin and go ‘survival of the fittest’ — but this story is about relationships, dependencies, and the subtle ways different species influence each other over time. He didn’t just see competition, he saw connections.
I think there’s a nice corollary to relationships there. Sometimes when I meet someone who seems insanely comfortable in their own skin, the first thing I wonder is, who or what helped you get there? What unseen forces helped you to become like this?
And when I think about the character traits that people admire in me – I can pinpoint my insects. My siblings who had to make room for all my chaos. My best friend who showed up to the hospital the day my daughter was born and helped me navigate the most crucial life-change I’ve had so far. My parents, who (let’s face it) still do more heavy lifting than I ever give them credit for. My new-formed adult friends, who don’t just accept the parent-child package I come with, but have made room for a toddler in their lives.
No one truly becomes themselves in isolation. We all grow into who we are through the strange, beautiful, relationships in our lives. Whenever there’s a weirdo in your midst, you need to wonder: Good heavens, what insect can suck it?
And when you think of the ways you’ve grown into this version of yourself, go and thank all your insects.
Okay that’s it. Those are all my observations, thoughts, and ramblings.
If you liked this essay, and you haven’t read Friendship Stuff Part I, please read it? And if you don’t like this essay then what are you doing here at the end of it haan? Liar.
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