Hon estly,
there are too
m any examples
to count.
But here’s one: The Thursday before Saint Patrick’s
Day, I walke d out of a work m e eting, lo oke d d ow n at
my phone, and saw 85—oh, wait, 92—new messages
in the group chat. My friends and I were about to
spend a weekend in Boston, and this was the unique
hell that is planning a girls’ trip (or dinne r or p ar t y
or br unc h or fit ne ss c lass) in 2020.
Whitney was wondering if we were
going out or staying in on Friday
night. Lilly was reminding us to
pack something green and also
being That Friend about happy-
ho u r pl a n s : “How p o or do we r e a l ly
want to be after drinking mediocre
mimosas?” Lindsey had the same
questions, except about dinner.
There were a lot of taco emoji.
When I got back to my desk,
I had I don’t even remember how
many 1:1 messages on Gchat. Lind-
sey was still asking about food (yes,
I ’l l g ra b s o me s n a c k s) and bus sched-
ules (yes, I’ll meet you at the station).
Lilly was seconding my complaints
about drama that shall remain
unnamed. Then an email with a
weekend itinerary rolled in...and
somehow already had three replies.
On Snapchat, two friends who
c o u ld n’t ma ke it we r e OMG so sad.
I sent a quick “Wish you both
c o u ld b e t he r e!! ” p o ut y-f a c e s e l f ie
before checking Instagram, where
Whitney had DM’d a picture of the
bar where we’d be hanging out on
Saint Paddy’s. I wrote the perfunc-
tory “Sooo excited!”
Some might call this exhausting.
For most of us, it’s just friendship.
My best guess is that it happened
somewhere between Sex and
the City and social media.
This idea that our friends aren’t
supposed to be just friends—they’re
also supposed to be our chosen
family, our perma wedding dates,
the on-call crew that hand-delivers
thoughts and prayers during every
Bad Bangs Crisis (a boyfriend could
never). This idea that if you can’t
always be there for your many BFFs,
you suck.
Look, I don’t want to be that bitch,
but I’m gonna go ahead and throw
some blame at all the IRL squads
first spawned by Carrie Bradshaw &
Co. Especially the aspirational ones
(ahem, Taylor Swift and friends).
Post after post after post of the
perfect group hang effectively
s hove d t he ide a of “ h a p pi ly e ve r
a f t e r ” b ut ma ke it f r ie nd s h ip dow n
our throats.
Nothing reinforces what these
relationships should look like
more than all the “real people”
doing them on Insta. Friendspo
(see also: jealousy, envy, and gag
me) is everywhere, so insanely
photogenic and edited that the
images of our friendships have
come to feel more important than
the friendships themselves. Ask me
about the time my friends and I
120 Cosmopolitan May 2020
Look, we love
each other!Cause of death:
my group chat.