Not too long ago, a group of women I consider my friends went out for dinner and drinks without me. I woke up one day to find a flood of photos on social media, all labeled “Girls’ Night!” There they were, gathered around a large, inviting table, drinks in hand, with smiles that radiated joy.
I quickly did a mental headcount, realizing I was the only one missing. As I scrolled through more pictures with captions like “Much needed!” and “Drinks with the girls!”, it became painfully obvious that I had been left out of the invite.
At first, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me, reminiscent of those high school days when not being invited to the “cool kids’ party” stung deeply. In those moments, I felt a familiar wave of self-doubt creeping in—the kind that used to come from a Queen Bee determined to make me feel uncool.
I almost fired off a snarky comment like, “Thanks for the invite,” on one of the photos. That would have made it clear I was hurt, and they would have felt guilty for excluding me. But just as fast as I typed it, I deleted it. I’m not a teenager anymore—I’m 33.
I shared my feelings with my husband, who offered various reassurances. “You can’t be the only one left out,” he said. “They probably didn’t mean anything by it.” “Would you even have gone?” That last one hit home—being nearly 30 weeks pregnant, I likely would’ve said no if I’d been invited.
But that wasn’t the point! I protested. So what if I’m in the “too pregnant to dress up” phase? They could’ve at least shown that they wanted me there.
This realization sparked a shift from sadness to anger. “Forget them! Next time I plan something fun, I know who won’t be on the guest list,” I thought. Yet, my husband encouraged me to reach out and seek an explanation. He insisted it would provide closure, but instead, I decided to sit with my feelings for a bit.
Over the next couple of weeks, I reflected on the situation. I questioned whether I had unintentionally upset someone in the group. I observed their behavior towards me after the girls’ night, speculating about what might be happening in their lives while considering my own circumstances.
Now, as I look back on it, I can say I’ve processed this rationally, rather than reacting from a place of anger or hormones. Sure, I want to be included, but not out of pity. I want to feel like I belong, but let’s face it, that won’t always happen.
This isn’t the first time I’ve felt left out, nor will it be the last. Honestly, I’ve probably been on the other side of this at some point too. So, do my friends owe me an explanation for their snub? Not really, and the reason is simpler than you might think: I’m not always going to be everyone’s cup of tea.
I can be sarcastic, a bit too candid about my pregnancy, and sometimes just not everyone’s favorite person. And that’s perfectly fine! I don’t vibe with everyone all the time either. Does that make us bad people? Not at all—just human.
Besides, on days when my friends aren’t feeling my energy, my husband certainly is. So regardless of who is doing what, I’m good. I hope my friends feel the same way, because at the end of the day, we’re adults, and I genuinely care about them.
For more insights on navigating friendships and feeling included, check out this other blog post. Also, if you’re interested in learning more about home insemination, visit Make a Mom, a great resource on the topic. For additional information on fertility and insurance, UCSF has excellent resources.
Summary
This article reflects on the feelings of exclusion experienced when a close-knit group of friends goes out without you. Initially met with sadness and anger, the author realizes that not being everyone’s cup of tea is part of being human. Understanding and acceptance emerge as key lessons learned from this experience, highlighting the importance of self-reflection and the value of adult friendships.
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