I’m increasingly of the opinion that fewer people should be allowed to have podcasts. However, one person I would allow to retain access to a microphone is Lily Allen, because – unlike most of the happy shiny people of podcasting – she continually uses her platform to say things that most of us would only admit to our best friend after several glasses of wine.
This week’s admission? That she ranks her friends. Talking to co-host Miquita Oliver (also allowed to continue broadcasting when I rule the world) on the Did You Miss Me? podcast, Lily said: “I create lists of people who I like in order of how much I like them. I send that list to my assistant and ask her to schedule the time for me to have FaceTimes with them.”
From her tone it’s entirely plausible that Lily is joking, or at least exaggerating. But even if she doesn’t have a physical list, I think she’s on to something very relatable that, if we’re being honest with ourselves, we all do.
I certainly have rankings in my friendships. But I’ve gone one step further – I’ve got a relegation zone at the bottom of the ranking, and if someone spends too long in that zone, they’re bumped off the list entirely.
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Inevitably this means that I have fewer friends than I once did. Ten years ago, when I left university and moved to London, it would have blown my mind to imagine that I might actively allow friendships to lapse. How many friends I had was the defining characteristic of how well my life was going – a yardstick for how good or likeable of a person I was.
I went out at least four nights a week, and if I couldn’t fill a weekend with at least three different social plans from Friday through Sunday, then I felt like an abject failure. Having lots of friends was a stamp of approval: proof that I was good and likeable and valid, no matter if those friendships were bitchy, one-sided, or occasionally toxic.
It turns out that 10 years on, having a child, a relationship, a career and a moderately clean house takes up the bulk of my time, and my energy for going to the pub and talking in circles through a bottle of white wine has expired. I also have less goodwill and therefore I’m only willing to spend time with people who are actively enjoyable. No free passes because a friendship is old, or because having a tight girl group makes me feel like I’m in a sitcom.
I’m too old to spend an evening with a mate who wants to hear the gory details about my divorce but not the exciting developments in the play I’m writing. So, if I have two bad social events in a row with someone, I move them to the bottom of my priority list. Three, and they’re relegated. I like myself more than I ever used to, and I only want to spend time with people who feel similarly positive about me.
I would have never have believed this when I was younger, but there’s actually a lot to be said for having a number of friends who’ve been moved to Tier Two. You no longer spend time and energy on seeing them, calling them and sending presents for their various life events, but you do still enjoy them as sort of featured extras in the film of your life. I like hearing the gossip about their lives, I’m actively interested in their headlines and I like their stories on Instagram – I just don’t need to have them as proper Friends with a capital F.
Relegating a friend shouldn’t be confused with a friendship break-up. Break-ups have an emotional toll: they’re the end of the relationship and they’re usually accompanied by some kind of acrimony. I harbour no ill will towards most of my relegated semi-friends. I still like them – we’ve just fallen out of the habit of making an effort towards each other, leaving a sort of benevolent vacuum.
I’m given to understand that in football, where I’ve stolen my relegation metaphor from, being demoted to a different league isn’t a permanent state of affairs. Teams move up and down, and it’s much the same with friendship. If someone previously relegated suddenly moves close by or shares an interest with me – or if they buy a house with a swimming pool – then I’m entirely happy to reopen that chapter. But there’s no sense in prioritising friends who you’re not currently enjoying very much.
In every other area of our lives, a balance between retention and decluttering is considered a good thing. Clearing out your wardrobe every year, changing jobs when you’ve stopped progressing, trying a new hobby when you’re bored of the old one – change is broadly considered to be healthy. I’m not sure why our friendships are supposed to be exempt from that.
Long-term friendships are magic, as long as they continue to grow and fit the person that you are today. Otherwise, they should be nudged towards the back of the line. Not blocked or removed entirely, just politely placed towards the bottom of the list, which as Lily Allen knows, we all secretly have.
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