My best friend May [24F] and I [24F] have been close since middle school, always talking about being in each other’s weddings. When she got engaged, I assumed I’d be a bridesmaid.
Recently, she asked for my help with wedding planning, but when she showed me her bridal party list, I wasn’t on it. She awkwardly said she had to make choices, keeping it small with her sister, fiancé’s sister, and a few newer friends.
I let it go, congratulated her, and assumed I’d just be a guest. But then she kept asking for major help—dress shopping, venue hunting, DIY decorations.
I finally said, “I love you, but it feels weird doing all this when I’m not even a bridesmaid.” She got mad, saying she thought I’d want to be involved anyway. I told her I’d be at the wedding, but I wasn’t going to do bridesmaid-level work when she didn’t include me in her bridal party.
Now she and some mutual friends are giving me the cold shoulder, calling me petty. But am I?
At first, I felt guilty. Was I being unreasonable? Was I letting my pride get in the way of my friendship? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized something important—friendship is a two-way street. If I mattered as much to May as she did to me, wouldn’t she have at least acknowledged how I felt instead of expecting me to play the role of an unpaid wedding assistant?
For the next few weeks, things were tense. Mutual friends started distancing themselves from me, and I could feel the quiet judgment in our group chats. I still wanted to be there for May on her big day, but I didn’t want to feel like I was being used. So, I decided to take a step back. No more wedding errands, no more late-night calls about flower arrangements, no more acting like her unofficial planner.
One night, about a month before the wedding, I got a text from May.
May: “Hey. Can we talk?”
I hesitated but finally agreed to meet up at our favorite coffee shop. When I got there, she looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry,” she blurted out before I could even sit down. “I didn’t handle this well.”
I sighed, relieved but still cautious. “May, it’s not about being a bridesmaid. It’s about feeling valued. I’ve always pictured us being there for each other in big moments. But you left me out and still expected me to do all the heavy lifting. That hurt.”
She nodded, stirring her drink nervously. “I guess… I just took you for granted. I thought you’d always be there, no matter what. And I didn’t think about how it would feel from your side.”
That was the crux of it. She had taken me for granted. And while it stung, I appreciated her honesty.
We talked for hours that night, really digging into our friendship. It turned out she had been feeling pressure from her fiancé’s family to include certain people, and in the mess of it all, she had made choices that weren’t necessarily her own. It wasn’t a perfect excuse, but it was a real one.
In the end, May didn’t ask me to be a bridesmaid, and I didn’t want her to. That ship had sailed. But she did something that mattered more—she acknowledged my feelings and apologized. And that was enough for me to show up to her wedding, not as a bridesmaid, but as a friend.
On the day of her wedding, as I sat in the crowd watching her walk down the aisle, I felt at peace. I had stood my ground, and May had learned something important about friendship and reciprocity. Sometimes, people make mistakes, and sometimes, the best thing we can do is give them the space to realize it.
After the reception, she found me and gave me the longest hug. “Thank you for sticking around,” she whispered.
And that’s the thing about real friendships. They get tested. They break, bend, and sometimes heal. But only if both people are willing to meet in the middle.
So, to anyone who’s ever felt left out or taken for granted—know your worth. Good friendships will survive honesty, and the right people will value you, not just when it’s convenient for them, but always.
If you’ve ever been in a similar situation, I’d love to hear your thoughts! Share this post with someone who might need to hear it today. ❤️
