The Sophistication of Needing Less in Friendships

Somewhere along the way, needing less became the flex. Wanting more became the problem.

As we become adults, we assume a certain level of maturity comes with it. And once we get to this big age, that sense of maturity becomes even more expected in friendship. It's expected that our time and tolerance lessen, and the decision to throw a friendship away becomes a flex, or something we need to do once we're healed and done the inner work. Those who want more from friendship are left being the ones who need to evolve, because they're needy, attached, and still not self-sufficient enough.

That's one side of it. The other side gets praised for the exact opposite reason. Low-investment friendship has become the sophisticated normal. Needing less from friendship gets this weird praise, like proof you've done the work everyone else still needs to do. So friendships that matter get deprioritized without anyone questioning it. They lose out to relationships with built-in obligations and take a backseat, because nothing forces anyone to protect them.

And that's really the root of it. Culture ranks friendship at the bottom of our relationships, and because there's no vow or title attached to it, no one is ever required to account for how low it's placed or how easily it gets cut. It's the one relationship you can let go of without ever having to explain why.

This reminds me of when Cynthia Bailey from RHOA had a friend contract for NeNe to sign. At the time, I thought that was weird, but now I see she was giving obligation and accountability to a relationship that meant a lot to her. Although I wouldn't address it this way, I understand why she did it. She valued her friendship with NeNe and was placing standards on that relationship, the way her other relationships naturally come with certain standards.

I feel this fear isn't just mine. It's the same fear that keeps a lot of us quiet, because the moment you say what you actually want out loud, you risk being seen differently. Many of us feel alone, and when you add shame that comes from our core, it can feel like a battle with ourselves. Connection matters, so why is friendship what matters less?

Unfortunately, the first place you're supposed to learn connection and belonging is the one place I didn't receive it. My home wasn't bad, but the message never came out as intended, so it wasn't the best place for an emotionally connected little girl.

When it came to making friends, I became hypervigilant by middle school. I had developed a superpower that I still have and am learning to trust more as I get older. I can sense whether a connection I make with people is real. Because of this, I have a good sense of people's intentions. But I've also ignored it because I want to belong and give people a real chance to know me before they count me out. So accepting this puts me in friendships that aren't as mutual as I'd hoped.


 Now I pay attention to my intuition and move accordingly.
I always had that discernment, and I knew what it was telling me. But as an adult, voicing what I wanted in friendship didn't feel like I was allowed to. So instead of saying it, I'd insert myself into others' world, hoping the closeness would come back to me on its own, so I'd never have to risk actually saying what I wanted.

Being careful with the relationships we make space for is very important. I think it's safe to say most of us don't want the BS. We want relationships that matter, that give us something we can't get from anyone else. We want to fit, but sometimes you come across people who aren't safe to build with. They come with a level of immaturity we won't tolerate. Sometimes we meet people who don't have room for more. They are the lucky ones who found their soulmate circle. Either way, sometimes what we want isn't easy to get.

For a person keen on connection, I think it can leave a real emptiness. It's easy to take things personally, to feel like you weren't enough, but someone reaching their capacity has nothing to do with your worth. Running into people who bring drama doesn't mean you're meant to be alone either. Neither is a verdict on who you are. Either way, when it happens enough times, the story we tell ourselves can start to change. What began as closed doors or damaging people became "I guess I'm not meant to have this." And somewhere along the way, some people stop reaching out altogether because they get tired of what happens every time they try. So shame creeps in. 

I've been on the receiving end of every kind of disappointment: reaching for people who aren't safe to build with,  reaching for good people who are already full, and reaching for friendships that show up and can only meet you at a certain level. That one is harder, because no one did anything wrong, but you're left wanting more.

I had to learn my story doesn't change, and it isn't less true because I was disappointed or unfulfilled. It's just that their journey shaped different standards than mine did. That’s where grace comes in — mine for them, and mine for myself, for still wanting what I want.

That's the sophistication no one gives enough credit for. Not needing less, but knowing how to keep reaching without losing yourself in the wait. I didn't learn that by accident. It came from somewhere.

I grew up with no true guidance. There was no one around me to help guide me toward my soul's calling. Instinctively, I knew having the right people around me was important. But my journey with friendship, growing up and into adulthood, still hasn't reached the caliber my soul seeks. As a result, I had to figure life out and see my value on my own. Nothing wrong with that, but I think it wouldn't have taken me this long if I'd had those right girlfriends by my side. That's not to say the ones who've been or are around weren't good. I wouldn't be fair to myself if I wasn't honest and said I still reserved a part of myself, because the depth I bring isn't always the depth I get back. This isn't to fault them, but my soul yearns for deeper reciprocity.

I believe connections are meant to help shape who we become. They are meant to teach, support, mentor, connect, grow, and/or love us. So it's baffling how easily friendship can be disregarded from that standard. 
Part of the reason we perform at our best is that someone is holding your dreams with you.  If we feel isolated, those dreams still arrive, just with rougher turbulence, before the landing. Having friendships that feel like they're your soulmate in your corner is gold. That shouldn’t be “needy” to say. 
Feeling fulfilled this way is like hitting the friendship jackpot. Such a rare find.
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The Appointment