Do you have real friends?

Letting go of what friendship is ‘supposed’ to be

“That’s the thing about friendship—it’s a lot rarer than love. Because there’s nothing in it for anybody.” — Owen Wilson (in the movie ‘Are You Here’)

Friendship. It’s the relationship we rarely talk about.

Which is strange—because it’s so vital to our lives, but no one tells you how it works.

In friendship, there are no guarantees, no rules, no roadmaps to follow. It’s the Wild West out there.

At least with romantic love there’s a common language—milestones like first dates, anniversaries, and vows for example. And the dating game might be messy and unpredictable (especially in this online age), but at least it exists. There’s no equivalent for friendship—no apps to swipe through, no rituals to guide you, no obvious path for what happens next.

I’ve never fully understood friendship. I don’t always know what I want from it—or what kind of friend I want to be.

So how do you define something so important yet so hard to pin down?

A real friend?

The poem ‘Friend’ by Toon Hermans, the Dutch humorist and poet, captures a simple but profound vision of friendship. I had a lot of fun translating it here for you from the original Dutch:

You need someone,

quiet and outspoken,

who prays or fights for you

when your spirit feels broken.

Only when you have someone

who joins you, in both laughter and lament,

only then can you truly say:

‘I have a friend.’

There’s a clear definition in here: a true friend can celebrate your wins and support you through tough times. Someone who is there for you when you need them, even if there’s nothing ‘in it’ for them.

The poem has always struck a chord with me and shaped how I thought about friendship for years. But only recently have I started to unpack what this definition really means—wondering if it’s maybe a little too perfect.

Some of my friends don’t fit this definition (and I don’t always either) but they’re still my friends. And I don’t even believe we need to. But there was a time where I did.

Back in high school, I became part of a tight-knit group of friends. For years, we were inseparable—hanging out constantly, living together in various combinations, and sharing everything from opinions to music to late-night conversations. At one point, I lived with one of my closest friends. We were like brothers, and I think that’s where I first picked up the romantic idea of friendship—that a friend should be everything to you, and it should last forever.

Then he got a girlfriend. They got serious quickly, and before long, they wanted to move in together. It was his house, so I had to leave.

Looking back, it’s very obvious to me that this transition was normal, even expected. But at the time, I was crushed. I took it as a betrayal, a sign he wasn’t a ‘real’ friend. It wasn’t until much later that I realized the problem wasn’t him. It was my own unspoken, unrealistic expectation—of what it meant to be (real) friends.

Quiet and outspoken

I no longer think friendship has to match the poem exactly, but parts of it still guide how I approach it.

I really like the ‘quiet and outspoken’ part. This resonates hugely with how I ‘pick’ and show up for my friends.

To me, a true friend has to be both. Someone who listens—really listens—without letting their own agenda get in the way (the quiet part). And someone who’s not afraid to call you on your shit and point out your blind spots even if it risks upsetting you and disturbing the peace (the outspoken part).

To borrow an idea from Jordan Peterson: ‘You want friends who, when something good happens to you, are happy for you—they’re not bitter, resentful, or trying to drag you down. And when something bad happens to you, they’re actually hurt by it. They don’t gloat, and they don’t try to top your story with something worse that happened to them.’

This is a strong friend.

Even though these are the kind of friends I hope to find, I’ve realized that friendships can take all kinds of forms and matter in different ways.

Redefining ‘real’

“True friends are those rare people who ask how we are and then wait to hear the answer.” — Ed Cunningham

Some of my friendships are rooted in a shared history, like my high school friends. We don’t share interests or current paths anymore, but we share memories and went through formative moments together. That still means something.

We don’t talk every day, but we check in, and we show up for the big moments—milestone birthdays, weddings, and funerals.

Then there are my ‘new’ friends, many of whom I’ve met online, scattered across the world. I love being able to find ‘my tribe’ in the wider world, not having to rely on locality. Many of these connections run deep, built on shared passions and emotional support.

Others are more collaborative—discussing ideas (curing our former intellectual loneliness) or working on projects together. They might not make it onto my emergency contact list, but that doesn’t make them any less meaningful. Many of these friendships have even crossed over into ‘real life,’ which feels like even more proof of how real they are.

And then there are the functional friendships, based on mutual needs—writing partners, parenting confidants, coursemates. These relationships might not always involve late-night heart-to-hearts, but they serve a meaningful purpose. And some of them are already evolving into deeper connections.

For a long time, I believed a true friend had to be everything to you, and you to them. If someone didn’t meet those unspoken expectations, I quietly labeled them ‘not a real friend.’

Letting go of that all-or-nothing idea has made it easier to appreciate my friends for who they are—and let them be just that.

They all matter

“Your legacy is every life you've touched” — Maya Angelou (via Oprah Winfrey)

Friendship isn’t about fitting people into a definition.

We need something bigger—a constellation of connections, each one meaningful in its own way.

A high school friend might ground you, knowing the person you once were. A friend you share deep weekly conversations with might know who you are now, in a way others can’t. And a collaborative friend might inspire you, pushing you to think differently and dream bigger.

None of these friendships look the same, but each one adds something unique and irreplaceable to my life.

Friendship might resist definition, but we can still appreciate the meaning in the ones we have—and let a poem remind us why.