How To Be A Terrible Friend

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Once upon a time, I was a high school student. I had a ton of friends from many different cliques and all was right with the world. We graduated and “OH MY GOD LET’S PROMISE TO BE FRIENDS FOREVER!” Then we all went off to our different colleges and we made new friends who filled the void our old ones had left. We made new friends at frat parties, homecomings, 21st birthday parties, at parties because it’s Friday parties, and graduation parties. But eventually, we drifted away from those friends, too. The fact that we all grew the hell up and are now strewn all over the country means, basically, we have, like, two friends who we actually talk to on a daily basis and care about what things are happening in their lives.

The remainder of your friends are in and out of your life like random married men in Lindsay Lohan’s vagina. When they make themselves present, you have to pretend like you give a shit. You don’t, though, so this is what you do:

SCENARIO: Your friend goes on the rebound with the first breathing male who has functioning reproductive organs.
FACE-TO-FACE: You feign happiness like your life depends on it: “You are SO made for each other.”
REALITY: You’re betting an over/under on how long it’ll take until she calls you crying about her ex. You give it a week tops.

SCENARIO: Your friend got that dream job you’ve been hearing about since fifth grade. You’re just trying to make it through your miserable existence without killing Todd, the intern.
FACE-TO-FACE: “That is so great! And they’re going to pay you more than what you already make? That is awesome.”
REALITY: “I hope your building collapses and catches on fire on your way to work. Wake up at 5 a.m. in vain, bitch.”

SCENARIO: Your friend closes on his first house that isn’t a rundown shack in the middle of the ghetto. Risking your life for a casual drink has now become obsolete. Mazel tov.
FACE-TO-FACE: “You’re a real adult now, man! You’ve got a legit bachelor pad and everything. You can bring home plenty of girls and no one will ever even know about it.”
REALITY: This is my new casual drinking spot. People will hear about you bringing home girls from me.

SCENARIO: Your friend is engaged (it’s not even a carat, so it’s nothing to get too excited about). Though you haven’t spoken to each other since the summer after your sophomore year of college, she still wants you to be the fifth bridesmaid in her offensive line.
FACE-TO-FACE: “Of course I’ll be your bridesmaid! Nothing would make me happier than to stand next to you on your special day!”
REALITY: “The FUCK did I ever do to you? This wedding is going to be more glittery than Edward Cullen walking out of a strip club at 11 a.m. I can’t even.”

SCENARIO: Two of your friends have decided to be irresponsible enough to reproduce.
FACE-TO-FACE: “Congratulations! Wow, a baby. It seems like just yesterday…”
REALITY: You clearly wouldn’t procreate right now (God willing) and somewhere deep inside, you’re debating how terrible of parents they’re going to be, and how fucked up their child will turn out. But you don’t care, THAT’S A BABY. OMG. You’re going to teach this kid to do so many valuable things, like how to properly disperse your weight while doing a keg stand and how to sweet talk the bartender into giving you free (or at least reduced) shots. All in due course, obviously. And the best part is, you get to leave at the end of the day when you’ve forced sugar down his or her throat all afternoon because you’re the cool “aunt.” This kid’s going to be awesome.

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My state gave you J. Law, Clooney, two-fifths of the Backstreet Boys, and multiple fifths of bourbon. I gave you a cover letter using Brian McKnight lyrics. Psuedo-adult by day; PGP, TFM, and TSM contributor by night. Please don't ask me to do math.

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