Thank You For Not Being My Friend

When we met I assumed that we would be friends. I thought you were friendly enough and was surprised when I sensed that you were backing away. I so wanted to like you and really I still do. After enough brusque hellos and half-hearted handshakes though, I finally seemed to get it.

You didn’t want to be my friend.

And the rejection stung. It hurt because I wanted to be in the same group as you, to laugh at the same jokes and to talk about all of the things. We have so much in common.

But it was never meant to be.

Some time has passed now, and I realize some things and I want to thank you for not being my friend. You see, if you had been my friend I would have missed out on so many things. I would have skipped right by the time spent alone in the quietude where thoughts run deep and where I put my pen to the page.

I would not have been able to hear the different drumbeat that I’m used to dancing to. At least not as well as I could have before.

I would have felt safe, secure in the friendship that I would have missed the opportunity to talk to other people, perhaps that lonely person at the end of the table. I wouldn’t have thought about others as much. I would have followed you instead of following the path God has marked for me.

And you know it’s true.

A gathering or group of friends often lack direction and are snug in the nest egg they have forged. With no clear leader, sometimes a gaggle of girls run amok. So often a deep sense of boredom sets in, though no one wants to acknowledge it. Perhaps that’s why it’s so hard to fix.

And I would have pretended, over time, to be something I’m not just to keep the status quo. I would have lost my way. Because I wasn’t friends with you, I’ve spent time with other people that I otherwise would not have had time for. I’ve learned lessons and had opportunities too.

Because I’ve been left out I have actually come to value myself more, which would not have happened if you had been my friend. I would have valued you more. And the fact that you cared to spend any time with me at all. I wouldn’t have benefited from that. And neither would have you.

I offer my friendship now to those who sees me as worthwhile, not as disposable. Had you have been my friend, I would have settled for less. I didn’t love myself as much back then.

I’ve learned the lesson of valuing others for who they are and not for where they fit on the social structure. I’ve learned not to twist myself to fit into a silly mold that values appearances over reality and form over substance. I’ve become more authentically me and am also a more loyal and honest friend. I realize you would not have valued that and I’m so glad you knew that at the start.

I’m more satisfied with who I am because of the very fact that you would not be friend. And so I want to say thank you. Thank you for not being my friend.

Rosa Hopkins is a writer of words a singer of songs and a dreamer of dreams; child of the King, gloriously saved. She blogs at and is a co-host of, ‘The Joe and Rosa Show’ on WDZY, AM & FM, Richmond, VA. She lives and writes in the hills of WV with her husband, miracle baby, Jack Russell and a shapeless hound named Lou.