Give Your Friends the Flick

Family, friends, associates and ex-colleagues have gathered.

They’re here in their hundreds – praising me, reminiscing about the times we spent together, celebrating my achievements. But most of these people don’t really know me. Many of them I don’t particularly like.

The scene is my funeral – or at least the funeral I can see in my mind’s eye. Is this why I’ve maintained so many relationships that have run their course – so there’ll be a decent turnout to mark my death?

A few months back I was discussing life with a couple of mates – our common ground being a diagnosis of serious illness in our thirties. Among the banter an interesting topic came up: divorce. But it wasn’t divorce in the conventional sense: lawyers, disputed assets, shared custody, lonely nights trawling dating apps. None of us was contemplating leaving our partner. The discussion centred on the sundry others in our lives who we no longer liked – people we needed to “divorce”.

As we talked, we came to see the common threads that ran through our relationships with these “buddies”. Re-engaged when we were first diagnosed. Stayed semi-engaged for the next couple of months through text messages and the occasional call. A gap and then . . . “Shit, mate, it’s been a while! You been well?” “No, I haven’t. Things have been bloody awful, but thanks for checking in.” What I should have been saying was, “I don’t give a shit. You don’t give a shit. And, hey, I don’t particularly like you anymore.”

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That evening I opened up to my wife. “You know how we keep talking about people who are frustrating us, who are pissing us off?” I asked her. “Well, it’s time we cut them off.” I thought she’d be sceptical, but she embraced the idea with a smile. We agreed on a cull, starting immediately.

One four-word sentence: “I don’t like you.” Try saying it out loud. It’s hard. We don’t like saying it because we know we’d hate hearing it. But let’s face it: in the course of your life there are going to be people who don’t like you – and that’s okay. It’s healthy to have a bit of conflict in your life. “Show me a man with no enemies,” rasped Winston Churchill, “and I’ll show you a man who has never taken a stand.”

So who were my targets for the chop?

THE MONEYMAN:
“Bro, I’m living the dream – $50k bonus, holiday in Aspen . . . ”

THE UBER COMPETITIVE:
“Scorched a 10-kay in 30 minutes the other day. What’s your best time?”

THE HABITUAL RE-SCHEDULER:
“Sorry, mate, something just came up – I’ll call you.”

THE SELF-ABSORBED:
“Hey buddy, I’m building guns like Statham’s!”

You know these types of wankers. You’re thinking of one right now. Fuck them off. You would assume the first divorce would be the hardest. Strangely, it wasn’t. Target No.1 was someone I’d “befriended” in the past couple of years. We’d never really connected, but would see each other a lot. The separation was done largely by stealth. I stopped calling and checking in. He didn’t seem to care, and nor did I. One down.

I moved on to ex-colleagues, a mentor and other so-called friends. The separations weren’t always achievable by simple withdrawal. Some required a short parting speech in which the message was blunt: “This relationship isn’t adding value any more. I don’t need your advice, your counsel or your friendship. All the best.”

The experience was liberating. Was it cruel? Well, maybe a touch. But it saved everyone years of pointless contact. The most powerful change, however, was the reconnecting. As we shed certain individuals, we rekindled relationships with people who’d strayed but had historically improved our lives. We mended broken fences as we reached out to old friends.

My wife and I also recruited. There had been people we’d met recently, people we liked, but hadn’t yet made the effort to bond with. We redirected our energy and spent time with them. We opened up and let them in – and they reciprocated. Through changing our mindset, we were building better relationships and stronger connections quickly.

Within a few months our lives had changed. Those we’d cut drifted off. At the same time our base of friends grew. If only we’d done this earlier.

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