I Was the Glue

The loneliest part of getting older isn’t being alone. I love being alone. Alone is peaceful. Alone doesn’t borrow your jacket and forget to return it. Alone doesn’t “circle back” on plans three weeks later. Alone doesn’t need a group chat to validate its existence.

No, the loneliest part of getting older is realizing some friendships don’t survive the moment you stop initiating… and then understanding they were never actually friendships. They were internships and you were the unpaid employee.

You were the cruise director. The therapist. The birthday reminder. The “just checking on you” fairy. The one who said, “We should get dinner soon!” and then… shocking twist… actually made the reservation.

You were carrying that relationship like it was emotional CrossFit.

And then one day, because you’re tired and your frontal lobe is fully developed now, you decide to run an experiment.

You don’t text first.

You don’t make the plan.

You don’t resurrect the dying conversation with a meme.

You just… stop.

At first, you feel powerful. Detached. Mysterious. You imagine them panicking. “Where is she? Is she okay? Why hasn’t she texted?!” You picture them spiraling.

Spoiler alert: they are not spiraling.

Days pass. Then weeks.

And that’s when it hits.

Oh.

Ohhh.

This was never mutual.

It wasn’t a bond. It was a system. And you were the system administrator.

Here’s the gag about getting older: you stop confusing familiarity with loyalty. (Read that again) Just because someone has known you for 15+ years does not mean they know how to show up for you. History is not effort. Shared memories are not maintenance.

You can have inside jokes and still be the only one carrying the emotional furniture.

And when you finally set it down? The room goes empty.

Now, before we get dramatic… this isn’t about villainizing people. Most of them aren’t evil. They’re just comfortable. Comfortable letting you drive. Comfortable letting you initiate. Comfortable letting you care a little harder, try a little longer, forgive a little faster.

You trained them!

I said what I said.

You trained them to expect your over-functioning. You made it easy. You smoothed the awkward moments. You bridged the silence. You tolerated the one-sidedness because you valued connection.

But aging does something delicious: it makes you allergic to imbalance. It makes you reject bullshit.

You start noticing patterns. You start calculating effort. Not in a petty way (okay, maybe a little petty), but in a self-respecting way. You ask yourself, “If I disappeared tomorrow, who would notice… and who would just assume I’m busy?”

Real friendship does not evaporate when you stop performing.

Real friendship notices your quiet.

Real friendship reaches out without being prompted.

Real friendship doesn’t need a reminder that you exist.

And yes, when you realize someone hasn’t texted you in six months because you stopped initiating, it stings. It’s a tiny ego death. You replay the time spent together. The trips. The “love you so much” messages. You wonder if you imagined the closeness.

You didn’t imagine it. You just over-supplied it.

But here’s the beautiful, slightly savage upside: once you stop pouring into bottomless cups, you have energy for the people who actually refill yours.

Your circle might shrink. Okay, your circle WILL shrink. Let it.

Smaller doesn’t mean sadder. Smaller means curated. Smaller means intentional. Smaller means nobody is coasting on your emotional labor like it’s an Uber they didn’t order.

Getting older strips away illusion. It reveals who shows up without a formal invitation. It exposes which relationships were habit versus heart.

The part that feels almost luxurious: you don’t have to chase anyone anymore. Ever.

You don’t have to convince someone to prioritize you. You don’t have to decode delayed responses. You don’t have to audition for basic reciprocity.

Silence becomes information. There’s so much said with silence.

And once you know? You’re free.

Free to stop over-giving. Free to stop explaining your worth. Free to match energy instead of manufacturing it.

The loneliest part of getting older isn’t sitting alone on a Friday night. It’s realizing you were the glue in rooms you thought were bonded by love. Holding the damn puzzle together.

But the most powerful part?

Deciding you’re done being glue.

If it falls apart when you stop holding it together, it was never stable. And you, my dear, are not a structural support beam.

You deserve friendships that stand on their own!

XOXO, AB 💅💄💋