Her Campus Logo Her Campus Logo
The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Bristol chapter.

Recently I had a friend over for dinner. We cooked a simple tomato-based pasta together and sat on the floor of my bedroom to eat it. After a few hours of chatting, I drove her home to avoid the rain and then went to bed.

To the unassuming eye, it wasn’t a special evening by any great standards, except that it was one of my favourites in a while. The conversation flowed with ease and was a perfect balance of give and take. I came away from the whole experience lighter, having laughed and invested in a friendship that fills me up, as opposed to drains me.

In a world that no longer seems able to catch its breath, simple things – sometimes prescribed negative connotations through our description as ‘mundanity’ or ‘banality’ – prove to be the best. The well-known American film producer and former AFL player, Ed Cunningham, once accurately remarked: “Friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer.” But true friendships, although highly coveted, are beautiful and rare.

This time last year, my situation looked very different. I felt like I was managing certain friendships as though they were business transactions: constantly apologising when I wasn’t performing at 100%, putting in more effort than I was receiving, and ultimately burning myself out chasing after people that weren’t interested in being my friends. The ultimate rejection.

Arguably more painful (and definitely more embarrassing) than being rejected by a date, a friendship rejection can leave you questioning what you did wrong for a string of seemingly endless days. Cue Bridget Jones’ Diary and an empty pot of ice cream on a Friday night.

Having survived the strange microcosm society that is high school; navigated – albeit slightly haphazardly – moving abroad alone; and then finding strong friendships at university, I’ve compiled five lessons I wish younger me could learn earlier in handling friendship rejection.

1. Don’t make it public.


You’re hurt. You’re confused. You want closure, answers, and a solution, but that won’t come from bitterly sharing about your experience with others. Instead, it will only compile on top of you as more negative baggage. Talk about your feelings openly with a trusted source, however refrain from placing blame or talking badly of the person/ people involved.

2. Clear the air.


If it feels necessary, share your point of view with those involved in a calm and respectful manner. Perhaps the friendship might rekindle, after all miscommunications happen. Or maybe you’ll both realise it’s time to cry it out and walk away.

3. Look at the bigger picture.


When you’re in the thick of these emotional challenges, they can feel all consuming. In amongst the hurt and embarrassment we can allow our thoughts to run away from us. Take a step back from the situation. Perhaps practising gratitude for the other people, or things in your life will help compartmentalise these feelings of rejection in a healthier way.

4. Changing your frame of mind.


It’s not always easy to hear, but not everyone is going to like you. Changing your default from “they don’t like me, there must be something wrong with me” to “this person and I don’t gel as well as others” is essential in coming to terms with a friendship rejection. By remaining positive and optimistic, you open yourself to healthy relationships in the future.

5. You know yourself


After a good few months of trying to bend myself to fit these people’s friendship prerequisites, I came to the conclusion it’s just not worth it. My happiness has been found in pursuing the things I love, and the friendships I have formed in these settings have been more natural, fun-filled, and lasting. They weren’t the problem, and neither was I. We were simply trying to defy odds and mix oil and water. The result… a mess!

Uni of Bristol student studying French and Politics. Wannabe writer.