I have never had the opportunity to be a bridesmaid. I don’t have any godchildren. I must admit, I can be unreliable at times: it might take me ages to respond to a message on WhatsApp, and I have a habit of canceling plans. Does this mean I am a bad friend? Or have I simply mastered the skill of prioritizing in life?

During my childhood, my goal was to be friends with as many people as possible. I always wanted to be included in every gathering. Feeling somewhat different from others, I made a conscious effort to fit in and be part of the crowd: if messy buns were in trend, you could bet I’d be sporting one the next day.

Tell me your favourite movie was True Romance and I’d watch it just so I could join in the conversation. I was desperate to be liked.

I put in a lot of effort to be accepted by everyone, which led to receiving invitations to various events such as birthday parties, weddings, and baby showers. It was a mix of excitement and exhaustion. So, how did I transition from being a social butterfly to seeking validation from my therapist about potential commitment issues last week?

The brutal truth is that these days, as I’ve aged and life has become one long to-do list, I’ve chosen to prioritise low-maintenance friendships. There’s just no time or energy for people who ask too much of me, and I certainly no longer have time for 20 ‘best friends’.

I will turn 35 next month; I work full time; I have a three-year-old; I have a chronic health condition; and like most of us, life stress has put my relationship through the mill at times. 

Whoever said that you can only pick two out of work, family and social life knew a thing or two about being busy.

So these days I have loads of acquaintances, but I really only have three friends. We don’t expect the world from each other, but there is a mutual respect. 

We will always be there through a breakup, a child catastrophe, a work dilemma or a health issue, but we don’t need to communicate daily about gossip. There’s no guilt-tripping over unreturned texts, no sulking over a last-minute dinner cancellation – we’re all aligned in the tacit understanding that if one of us cancels then it’s nothing personal; if anything, it’s usually a huge relief to all. Are we antisocial? Maybe.

Calling them ‘convenience friendships’ sounds dismissive, but they are convenient.

Why does that need to be a negative thing? We live close by, we have similar interests, we are part of a similar network, we share the same problems, we have the same dry humour. Being with these friends leaves me feeling really uplifted: they are radiators not drains.

A perfect illustration – my best friend Olivia, who I have known since I was 15 years old, got married in 2018. She didn’t ask me to organise her hen do, nor did she ask me to be a bridesmaid – and I didn’t even think that was weird. I saw it precisely for what it was – a sign that she cares enough not to burden me with a role that we both know I’d be rubbish at and which would cause me stress over not being able to deliver.

I can be fun company, I’m a good listener and I’m loyal – but I will never be the person who organises a weekend away for 20 people or, if I am being honest, reliably turns up on time (even on a day as important as my best friend’s wedding!). A true friend is someone who knows all that about you and loves you anyway.

High-maintenance friends, on the other hand, feel entitled to your time. They can be needy or dramatic and I have no time for drama – I spent 15 years on a particularly dramatic TV show and my current life is quite enough of a rollercoaster as it is.

‘You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with’ is a quote from the late American motivational speaker Jim Rohn. If he was right, then it’s very important to spend time with people you want to be like, people you find attractive. I would say it is equally important to know when to let go of a toxic friendship.

I have one girlfriend who repeatedly falls out with not just one close friend but many of them, including the godparents of her children. She picks people up and drops them. Then during the ‘break-up’ phase she bitches about that person nonstop, only to get back together with them again a month or so later.

I found this love/hate very confusing and the incessant gossiping during the break-up phase made me worry that if she was saying such horrendous things about the godparents of her children, what on earth was she saying about me and every other person she draws in close? I especially worried about this when I was sick.

In the end, I had to create some space. I realised that some people only forge friendships based on their dislike of others. It’s textbook teenage bully behaviour with a slice of severe manipulation, all done in an attempt to rise to the top and gain that title of ‘queen bee’.

There are a few people who make me feel like I’m on a first date even though I’ve known them for years. Then there are those who are good-time party friends. 

I had one school friend who I could only be myself around when we were drinking and smoking heavily. It was blackout drunk or nothing. Trawling the Fulham Road for a 24-hour diner to eat burgers and ending up back at some stranger’s mews house until 6am. 

Then during lockdown I knew I wanted to try for a baby, but didn’t feel that I could tell her because she was single, and definitely not trying for a baby, and I thought she wouldn’t understand. In a fairly cowardly move, I decided it would be easier to cut her off than to tell her I wanted to do a full 180 on my lifestyle and stop drinking so that I could get pregnant.

Now that I’ve been sober for exactly four years I can trust myself enough to be around wild drinkers, although I pick and choose my moments wisely.

When I was last speaking to C, my therapist, I wondered aloud whether I was doing life ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ because I hadn’t replied to a perfectly lovely local mum friend who had invited me on a very sophisticated family-friendly Alpine holiday. 

She has a son the same age as Leo and we bump into one another at the swings in the park or at football practice. She’s always so friendly and clearly one of those women who’s great at putting on effortlessly cool dinner parties and introducing like-minded people to one another. She would definitely be asked to be her best friend’s bridesmaid.

C’s wise words were that I have to put myself first and that the right people will understand.

She’s right, of course, but there is still a part of ‘old me’ lurking in the back of my brain that loves the idea of being liked by this stylish, friendly, well-connected woman who knows the ‘most desirable residences’ in Chamonix (with round-the-clock childcare).

Then again, she does seem like one of those efficient, organised types and I’d only end up taking months to reply to her dinner-party spreadsheet. It would never last!