I know what you’re thinking, she ghosted her best friend? What a bitch. And even though it’s illegal to call a woman a bitch (especially on her period), I will do my best to explain my worst breakup to date… And perhaps advocate that sometimes ghosting is the kindest option?
THE MEET-CUTE
Let’s call her Genevieve (I think she’d like that). We met in our late 20s through mutual friends, and after all the bullshit: the affairs with married men, eating disorders, and desires to be actresses, our courtship, like all the best ones, was swift, intense, and organic as hell. Things went from friendly to best friends pretty quickly. Neither of us were messing around. We were almost 30, after all.
We were the perfect mix of being totally opposite and exactly the same. Though both Jewish girls, she was very much a gentile trapped in a Jewish body: calm, poised, very into the whole ladylike thing. And I, well…I just recently learned that you’re supposed to wipe back to front. She grounded me, and I set her free.
I don’t remember the exact moment I fell in “friendship love” with Genevieve. There wasn’t a big ‘Aha!’ moment. More like a warm blanket slowly enveloping me. Cozy, safe, and really fucking fun! A blanket? Fun? Just go with the metaphor. It’s like that amazing Walt Whitman quote, “We were together. I forget the rest.” It was late nights in parking lots and early morning phone calls and homemade stew in cramped studio apartments and cheap last-minute flights to Santa Fe. It was her buying special gloves because she was deathly allergic to my cat, but still wanted to pet her. She wanted to love who I loved.
We were each other’s Valentine’s Day dates every year. We’d go to the same bar, flirt with the bartender, and feel genuinely lucky we were together and not with ‘some dude.’ Her birthday cards made me weep. She’d look at me across the room at a bad party, and I’d feel home. Genevieve loved me before I could love myself. She set the standard for how to love. She was the best boyfriend I ever had.
And then I got a real boyfriend….
A SEXY COMPLICATION – TURNING POINT
…And Genevieve was so stoked for me! She couldn’t have been cooler about it. She and my dude even got along really well and, not surprisingly, even had a lot of the same traits. Then, a year later Genevieve met John. We were ecstatic! We both got Covid boyfriends! Next stop double wedding!
But almost immediately something felt off…
From the beginning, their courtship gave me the ick. She had these dating rules that truly felt like that creepy book from the 1950s, The Rules. It didn’t feel like she was surrendering to the almighty goddess of love; it felt like she was trying to land the guy. From my vantage point, John had all the power, and Genevieve was waiting, with a stomach ache, for a text back. I was so confused. Why was my confident kick-ass bff acting so insecure? We’d come so far slogging through the wreckage of our 20s. It was time for the payoff, time to suck the marrow out of life. So why did it feel like my best friend was on a diet?
But despite my doubts, she kept telling me how happy she was. So why couldn’t I just be happy for her? This had nothing to do with Genevieve’s relationship. This felt like a me problem. After all, I don’t have the best track record with my friend’s boyfriends. I tolerate them at best. I mean, who is good enough for my friends?! I’ve never even met one of my closest friends’ husbands — as it should be!
So why couldn’t I get over this ick feeling and celebrate that Genevieve had finally found her dream guy? Why couldn’t I just humble myself and be a good friend? After all, one person’s red flag is another person’s cozy fire.
But as their courtship continued, this nagging feeling wouldn’t go away; it was like my soul had the stomach flu. By the time he asked her to be his girlfriend, my symptoms only worsened. It was official. John was here to stay. I had no other choice. I was desperate. It was time to look inward…
THE HOOK – MIDPOINT
Best friends hear everything. So much so that it feels like we’re in the relationship as well. So why was I so triggered by having to “date” John? (Or date him once removed, if you will.)
Long story short, he reminded me of dudes I dated (dating is a generous term) in my 20s: emotionally unavailable men who, as Taylor Swift preaches, are ‘casually cruel in the name of being honest.’ Like the time he told Genevieve she was pretty but not beautiful (mean and false!) Or when Genevieve was having a vulnerable snot-faced cry, and John vowed that ‘this is the Genevive I might be able to fall in love with.’ Guys whose self-loathing I mistook for depth.
But the funny thing is I liked John! Sure, I hated him for my best friend, but he was a blast: charming, witty, and loaded. He’s the guy you have funny banter with at the party, and then the next morning think to yourself ‘Talking to that dude was the best part of my night.’ But with all his cool gadgets and fancy grills, I knew deep down he hated himself. And when a guy hates himself, he just isn’t capable of loving you. That’s just like math.
But Genevieve had her therapy speak on hand to justify his behavior. You see, John had an avoidant attachment style which caused him to have frequent what she referred to as ‘episodes.’ But I just called it being a dick. During his episodes, he became convinced that their relationship was the root of his unhappiness. Maybe if Genevieve changed this or that he’d be happy! He wanted her to give him space, but also be at his every beck and call.
Listen, we all have our stuff, I just didn’t think it was fair that Genevieve had to bear the brunt of all his issues. Though she swore she was happy, I could see it was taking a toll on her and her digestive tract. Hell, it was taking a toll on mine! I was becoming resentful as Genevieve cried in my arms at parties because John was being a dick only to have her wipe her tears on my mumu and then hop in his Tesla. As best friends, our work is never done, but why did it feel like I was also taking on John’s shift?
I tried to put myself in Genevieve’s shoes (which was painful because she’s a size four.) I know she wanted financial security and a baby and in her mind, John was the quickest route to both. How could I blame her for that? But I felt like she was sacrificing so much of herself to make her relationship work, and it was starting to piss me off. No, I wasn’t pissed. I was raging! Holding full-on courtroom prosecutions in my head on why Genevieve should dump his ass and never look back. Very sane stuff.
Again, to turn inward. What made her relationship feel like a personal attack against me was that John was the first thing that Genevieve and I didn’t completely see eye-to-eye on – and it freaked me the fuck out! Becoming best friends with someone is like creating a whole new universe. It’s the safest womb where someone can yes call you on your shit, but also validate your reality. So not being on the same page about John felt so jarring, like the lights turning on in a club at 2AM. The party was over. Underneath my frustration was a deep aloneness. Afterall, who was I supposed to process this with?
Then came Genevieve’s birthday…
SWIVEL – SECOND TURNING POINT
Genevieve didn’t love her birthday, especially as it slid closer and closer to 40. So I was proud of her when she chose to celebrate by having a cute dinner with just us….and our boyfriends. And actually, the four of us had a blast! We talked about our favorite underrated TV shows and the benefits of earthquake insurance and finished the night off with gluten-free cake in the parking lot of Erewhon. Genevieve was a little quiet, but she also seemed content and at peace.
I remember telling my boyfriend on the way home, “I was so wrong about John. He’s lovely and they’re lovely together. Why was I being such a hater?” John was actually a really good guy, despite having a Tesla. Maybe we’d all go to Joshua Tree together this spring?
The next day I called Genevieve so excited to dissect the night and also make amends for being a judgemental bitch about her relationship. What the hell did I know about relationships? I’d been with my boyfriend for like four seconds. But I could tell right away, all was not kosher. Genevieve was upset. She accused me of flirting with John all night and that the amount of attention he was giving me made her uncomfortable. I was in shock. Me? Flirting with John? I defended (maybe a little too defensively) that I was just trying to make an effort to bond with him…for her. I was trying to better the situation, but I somehow made it worse. A feeling of shame washed over me. I had done something horrible – just by being myself.
I apologized, but I honestly didn’t mean it, and she could tell. I think it’s healthy to have conflicts in friendships, but this felt like she was projecting her relationship insecurities onto me, and that didn’t feel fair. I found myself repeating advice I’d given Genevieve during the early days of John ‘It doesn’t have to be this hard.’
The holidays came, and John whisked Genevieve off to his family’s estate in Martha’s Vineyard – while my boyfriend whisked me off to Costco in Burbank. It was good for Genevieve and me to have some space. In an effort to process my feelings about the situation, I decided to write a script about two 30-something best friends growing up and growing apart. And yes, there was a John-like character who was tearing them apart. It felt so cathartic and healing, but then I decided to send it to Genevieve…
Looking back, I think it was my desperate last-ditch effort to try and get her to ‘see the light.’ She read it and loved it. The relationship I thought I depicted as toxic she saw as romantic. She was honored at the homage.
I couldn’t get through to her, and it was killing me.
THE DARK MOMENT – CRISIS CLIMAX
The crisis in this story is actually my crisis of the mental health variety. It was summer 2022, and it was my true dark night of the soul. That’s a substack for another day, but let’s just say I was in hell. (I’m doing much better now. Shoutout to meds + therapy!) I was so grateful to have my amazing boyfriend and family, but I needed all hands on deck. Needless to say, I needed my best friend.
But at my lowest point, Genevieve was MIA. I felt like I had to beg her to come over when my other friends would just show up at my front door, pizza in hand. Friends who lived across the country felt more present for me during this time than Genevieve did. When she did come over, Genevieve just wanted to talk about John: He started calling me beautiful! He let me have a chair in his office! He finally said ‘I love you!’ (she wouldn’t dare say it first). It felt like John had become her entire personality. Admittedly, I wasn’t the most fun hang that summer, but I just needed someone to be there for me, to listen. I needed our womb.
One of the great things about a mental health crisis is it quickly shows you who your people are. There’s no more room for bullshit. As much as it broke my heart, our friendship was starting to feel like bullshit. Friendship is a choice, that’s what makes it so beautiful, and it was getting harder and harder to choose Genevieve.
I realized this was so much deeper than just me not liking her dude. I’m not even sure you’re allowed to say this about your best friend, but she was starting to really annoy me. The way she infantilized herself and wore little schoolgirl outfits. How she would break out into ballet routines during a conversation. Her self-satisfaction at her own writing. The way she ate cherries in this over-dramatic way, picking them out of the bowl like she was plucking a pearl out of an oyster. Everything I once thought was so cute about her began to feel so calculated. Again, what the fuck was wrong with me? When did I become so judgmental? I’ve always prided myself on accepting people exactly as they are. I mean, I let my boyfriend breathe when we watch TV. I’m basically Buddha.
I’m ashamed to admit I would “vent” about Genevieve and her relationship to anyone who would listen: my therapist, my manager, my mailman. But karma came for me one fateful afternoon in Encino. I was openly talking shit to a friend about Genevieve and John’s relationship at a restaurant only for them to appear IRL!!! I still don’t know what or if they heard (and it haunts me) but I knew something had to change. I was becoming the BFF from hell.
JOYFUL DEFEAT – RESOLUTION
The breakup was pretty anticlimactic. There became more and more time in between calls/texts/hangs in a way that felt very natural. We were both busy living our lives. It felt kinda weird to know that something was over before she did. But what the hell did I know? She could’ve been feeling the same thing on her end. One afternoon she texted that she really missed me and asked if we could please get dinner. I thought yes, of course, I should get dinner with her. We should catch up. I should be a good friend. But every time I thought of sitting there I just really didn’t fucking want to. I told her I couldn’t right now, but would be in touch soon and that I loved her. The last part was true.
Did I owe her a breakup dinner? If we were romantically involved it would be psychotic to ghost after an 8-year relationship but when it comes to friendships do the same rules apply? I felt like we’d been having this breakup dinner for the past two years. Ultimately I had to go with my gut (however constipated) that was screaming at me to let Genevieve go. Let her be happy. After all my hemming and hawing and trying to get her to see MY truth which is obviously THE truth (I know I’m working on it in therapy) I just really felt like the kindest thing to say was nothing. It was finally time to just shut the fuck up.
John eventually proposed, I saw it on Instagram like a true acquaintance. I was happy for her but didn’t reach out. I didn’t wanna make her moment about us. They were getting married but it also felt like we were officially over. She chose him and I was so relieved he had finally chosen her. Then, I unfollowed her because I am a petty bitch. No seriously, I am happy for her! But if God knows what’s good for her, I’ll get pregnant first.
Ironically, I feel like I can be a better friend to Genevieve from afar. I get life updates through our mutual friends and feel genuine happiness for her. She’s moving into John’s house, planning a wedding, and truly getting everything she wants. Part of me is devastated that I won’t be a bridesmaid, but I also feel a deep sense of relief. More importantly, her wedding will be so much better without me there! She deserves only love and positivity on her big day – and forever, really. I waited two years to feel this feeling of genuine happiness about her relationship with John. Maybe sometimes it’s easier to be true supporters of those we love from the nosebleeds, rather than the front row?
I can be a bit of a fuck boi when it comes to grief. Downplaying my feelings in hopes they’ll go away: My grandparents were old! That’s what happens! They die! My dead friend Chris was just a friend. I have so many other friends! Some named Chris even! But healing comes when I open my heart to the truth: People are irreplaceable. Genevieve is irreplaceable to me. There’s a friendship void that will never be filled in quite the same way. A couple of weeks ago, I threw away her cat allergy gloves. It was time, but it was also really fucking sad.
Please don’t trust me on any of this. There’s a reality that exists where Genevieve fell in love and it was perfect but her best friend was a total weirdo about it. Why did things have to go down like this? Maybe I should’ve forfeited my place as her emergency contact with more grace? This is where I see so clearly the limits of my own humanity. There is something so much larger at play coming from the great beyond begging me to trust it. When I can tap into the flow of the natural universe the answer is so clear: Mourn what was lost but also celebrate the hell out of it. Every friendship is a miracle. What new miracles lay ahead for both of us?
Genevieve is the closest thing I have to “the one that got away.” It would be a lie to say I’m over it, and an insult to the institution of friendship. I pray I don’t run into her at temple, but I also kind of hope I do. It’s devastating we won’t move into this next phase of life together: bachelorettes, birthing classes, forcing our kids to be best friends and, eventually, marry so we can all be family. The grief is real! But sometimes growing up means growing apart. We both found our happiness – and fought like hell for it! I’m proud of us. I am genuinely grateful I got to experience being Genevieve’s best friend for nearly ten years. Oh no. Here comes that genuine gratitude… That’s when you know it was true love.
Thank you, Billy Mernit, for the essential RomCom Story Beats I used in this essay.
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https://open.substack.com/pub/jessiekahnweiler/p/i-ghosted-my-best-friend?r=7dy35&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
