Five Red Flags of Toxic Friendships

See the warning signs early

Sometimes toxic people slip into our lives without us fully noticing. You’re a juicy target if your natural inclination is kindness. Once they’re entrenched, we have to extricate them like a soul-sucking parasite, and it’s not easy. It’s better to spot the warning signs first.

Red Flag #1: Sharing too much too soon

I was new in town, and she was friendly. On our first hike, she told me of her traumatic past. I shared a bit of mine.

I remember thinking, whoa, too much, but I wanted to see how it progressed.

We hiked again—more trauma talk, mostly on her side.

Every hike, more and more. I thought, wow, she’s had a rough life. She really needs a friend to talk to.

Bing bing bing, enter Rescuer. Free therapy.

Dammit. I know better.

Red Flag #2: Bad-mouthing others

She dissed people in town. It’s a tiny community; if I disagreed with her opinion about someone, she’d get angry. Every time we hiked, she had a new beef or an old grudge she wanted to poke. I started to piece together that she had many train-wrecked friendships, which was always the other person’s fault.

Hmm.

There’s another mini-flag here. When I’d mention her name to others, they’d roll their eyes.

Red Flag #3: Not wanting to change

At this point, I’m straddling the line. Do I end this now, or do I try to help her find peace? I can see that I’m acting as a therapist, but I also want to support her.

I ask if I can offer suggestions. She says yes. This almost becomes an argument as she bats away every option I give.

She needs more money. I say, rent a room in your house. We have a housing crisis, and she’d surely find someone. No, she doesn’t want to share space with anyone.

I say, sell your art. I can help you set up a website. No, she’s burned all the bridges in town (pissed off the galleries), and she doesn’t have wifi.

Sell your house and move into something smaller. The market is hot, and she’d make good money from it. No, she doesn’t want to do that.

She’s lonely. Join a group, any group. Teach an art class. Hang out at the hardware store. No, she knows too much about the men in town and wouldn’t touch them.

So she needs a loaded out-of-towner to fall in love with. I suggest going to après ski events and chatting. No, those people are just visiting, and she’s not looking for a quick hookup.

Okaaaaay.

Red Flag #4: Feeling bad after spending time with them.

It’s been scientifically proven that walking in Nature soothes the soul. However, after our hikes, I felt exhausted. I’d come home and kvetch to my husband. He kept saying, “You don’t feel good after seeing her. Stop seeing her.”

I’d stop for a while.

Time would pass, and she’d ask again to go for a hike. She’d suggest a trail only long-time locals knew, and well, what can I say? I’m a sucker for the wild outdoors.

The whole damned conversation started again where she complained but doesn’t want to do anything to change it.

Finally, I confronted her in exasperation, saying precisely that above sentence. It was awkward, I felt like an asshole, but I couldn’t do it anymore.

We parted with sullen energy between us.

A year rolls by. She texts me and says she’s been soul-searching. She’s keeping a gratitude journal, meditating, and healing broken relationships. She wants to talk to me. She tells me she’s growing. I’m encouraged for her. I tell her as much.

I agree to a hike. Idiot.

Red Flag #5: Guilt trips

My life is beautiful. I have a loving husband, comforts, and a job that feeds my soul. I have earned it.

The conversation is going well so far. She has a few issues she’s still working through and asks my opinion. I give it. Then she compares us, saying, “It’s easy for you. You have XYZ. I have none of that.”

I tell her I’ve worked hard for my life, and she backs off. She can tell she’s angered me by suggesting that my joy results from sheer luck.

I feel sad now. It’s obvious she wants to remain miserable. She gets something from it. I’ve been sucked into this vortex for too long.

The ending

What was the last straw?

She returned a gift I gave her. She’d been saying for years that she wanted an InstaPot. I bought her one and watched with joy as she jumped up and down in excitement as she unwrapped it.

Then, she got weird. “It’s too much. I can’t take this.” I said she’d talked about one wistfully for as long as I’d known her. And now she had one. She smiled and put it in her car, giving me a big squeeze and a teary thank you.

Four days later, I got an awkward text about how she wanted to give it back. I could return it or give it to a family in need.

WTF?

A thought went through my head, one that I despise.

AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU, THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME.

I hate that guilt-tripping phrase. I heard it a lot growing up, and it disgusted me that I wanted to say it to someone else.

We met for a walk so she could give the gift back. I opened the car door, and she put it in. No discussion. I waited for her to talk about it, but she didn’t. We walked, and she bitched about her life.

Halfway through, I told her about my morning through gritted teeth. My mom’s caregivers were a nightmare, and I lived thousands of miles away. I was frustrated beyond measure by my helplessness.

She changed her tune. She didn’t ask me to go deeper into my pain but instead tried to make the conversation light, asking me what I’d bought lately that was fun. I stopped, looked at her blankly, and said, “A pineapple.”

My husband said I should have said an Instapot.