The ‘Best Friend’ Myth
Let’s start with a little truth serum: the notion of a “best friend”, one singular soulmate who completes you, your ride-or-die, your one true confidante, is a charming fiction we were sold alongside fairytales, Happy Meal toys, and the false hope that mortgage rates would be kind by our thirties.
From childhood, we were taught to search for the one: the Monica to our Rachel, the Ant to our Dec, that person who would hold our secrets, split their chips with us without hesitation, and loyally hate our enemies on command. It was adorable when our biggest concerns were playground dramas and whose pencil case was cuter. But adulthood requires something far more nuanced. Grown-up life is fast-paced, complex, and honestly? No one has the capacity to be your emotional Swiss Army knife 24/7.
Here’s the truth that only comes with experience and a touch of emotional maturity: different people bring out different versions of us, and that’s a beautiful thing. There’s the crisis-text friend, the post-disastrous-date pep-talker, the 2am meme-sharer, and the friend you see twice a year yet still manage to pick up the conversation mid-sentence.
A high-value woman doesn’t measure her relationships by frequency of communication. We’re far too emotionally self-sufficient to demand daily reassurance. Some of the deepest friendships don’t involve morning affirmations or constant commentary on our whereabouts. Instead, they’re rooted in mutual respect, deep trust, and the comforting knowledge that the connection is secure, even in silence.
And when we do reconnect? It’s an effortless six-hour catch-up, a bottle of wine (or three), and a forensic review of every romantic, professional, and spiritual misstep since your last meeting, all without skipping a beat.
Let’s not overlook the voice note dynamic, either. The sacred ritual of sending a ten-minute tirade about a WholeFoods shopping catastrophe, only to receive a detailed monologue about how her manager is a walking migraine with a superiority complex. These friendships are not built on convenience, but on compatibility and aligned chaos.
The whole concept of one all-consuming, all-purpose “best friend”? It’s not just outdated, it’s unrealistic. A high-value woman knows that emotional dependency on a single person is neither healthy nor fair. No one individual should be expected to double as therapist, cheerleader, spiritual guru, and emergency contact. (Though let’s be honest, we’ve all chosen a friend over our mum on official paperwork at least once, for obvious reasons.)
True friendship isn’t about possession. It’s about resonance. It’s the art of collecting soulmates in all forms, each one holding a different mirror up to us. There’s the childhood friend who remembers your eyeliner-only phase, the work wife who keeps your coffee order memorised and your career ego in check, the glamorous jazz bar girlfriend who comes alive under mood lighting and never misses a trick with the male population. We don’t rank them. We cherish them differently.
And then there’s the specialist friend. The one you call when you’re teetering on the brink of a life crisis, the kind who responds with a spreadsheet, a motivational quote, and an Uber to your flat. The one whose dating advice should be bottled and sold, despite being emotionally unavailable herself. Or the one who radiates chaos and charisma in equal measure, but will absolutely burn the world down for you if needed.
These people are not distractions, they are divine appointments. Each one feeds a different part of your spirit. And knowing how to receive love from many sources without clinging to any single one? That’s your power.
Now, let’s talk about the guilt. The “Oh God, I forgot to reply for three months and now I look like a monster” moment. Here’s your permission to let that go. A true friend doesn’t penalise you for living your life. The real ones understand, your time is precious, your energy is guarded, and your bandwidth isn’t available to everyone, every day.
If you've ever sent a meme instead of a paragraph because your brain was too fried for real conversation, congratulations, you're not just surviving adulthood, you're doing it with grace. Sometimes that’s all we have to give. And the right people? They get it. No drama. No passive-aggressive commentary. Just love, held lightly but deeply.
So here’s the elevation: release the pressure of crowning a singular best friend. You’re not twelve. You’re a whole woman now, layered, evolving, rich in experience and emotional discernment. One person cannot and should not carry all that you are. The high-value woman honours the village it takes to support her, and she reciprocates with intention, care, and presence, when it matters most.
Because truly? If anyone could handle all of this magnificence full-time, they wouldn’t just deserve a medal. They’d need a vacation. And probably a Negroni.
