Recently, a group of women I thought of as my close friends went out for dinner and drinks without including me. I woke up one morning to find a stream of photos on social media, all tagged “Girls’ Night!” They were gathered around a large, inviting table, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces.
As I scrolled through the pictures, I mentally counted who was there and realized that I had not been invited. Initially, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me—like I had been left out of the “cool kids” party. Instantly, I was transported back to high school, feeling the familiar sting of rejection, reminiscent of dealing with a Queen Bee who thrived on making me feel like an outsider.
I was tempted to leave a passive-aggressive comment on one of the posts, something like, “Thanks for the invite.” But I quickly reconsidered. I’m 33 years old; I shouldn’t be acting like a teenager.
I shared my feelings with my husband, who offered some comforting excuses. “You can’t be the only one left out,” he said. “They probably didn’t mean anything by it. Would you have even gone?” That last point hit home—being nearly 30 weeks pregnant, I likely would have declined an invitation anyway. But still, I was frustrated.
The thought crept in: did they not want me there? This realization shifted my feelings from sadness to anger. “Forget them,” I thought. “Next time I have fun, they won’t be on the guest list.”
My husband, ever the voice of reason, suggested I ask one of them for an explanation. He assured me that I would get a rational answer that would put my mind at ease. But instead, I chose to sit with my feelings for a while.
Over the next couple of weeks, I reflected on the situation. I questioned if I had done something to upset one of them. I observed their interactions with me following the girls’ night and mulled over what might be happening in their lives and mine.
Now that some time has passed, I can look back at this with a clearer perspective. Sure, I want to be included, but not out of pity or obligation. I want to feel like I belong, but I understand that’s not always possible.
This isn’t the first time I’ve felt excluded, and it likely won’t be the last. I have probably been on the other side of this scenario too. So, do my friends owe me an explanation for not inviting me? I don’t think they do.
The reality is much simpler: not everyone will always appreciate my personality. I can be a bit sarcastic, sometimes too open about my pregnancy, and maybe not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s perfectly okay! I’m not always in the mood for other people’s quirks either.
Does this make us bad people? Not at all. It just makes us human. And when my friends aren’t in the mood for me, my husband is more than happy to pick up the slack. So regardless of what my friends are doing, I’m doing alright. I hope they feel the same way because, in the end, we’re adults and I do care about them.
For more insights on relationships and emotional well-being, check out this other blog post. If you’re navigating the complexities of relationships during significant life changes, resources like this one from the CDC can provide valuable information. For those interested in deeper research, this authority on infertility offers excellent insights.