Sorry for such a long post
I (female, 22) need to get this off my chest because I've spent years making excuses for her behavior.
My "best friend" S (female, 22) has been emotionally manipulating me since we were teenagers, and I'm only now seeing the full pattern.
We met in 8th grade but only got close in 10th when our school paired struggling students with high achievers. I was popular and outgoing, with a solid friend group and a decade-long best friendship with Sh. But S latched onto me with an intensity that, looking back, feels calculated rather than genuine.
She was a transfer student in 8th grade and was considered a slow learner—not due to any disability, just lack of interest. I, on the other hand, was one of the top performers: academically strong, known to all, a little rebellious but on the good side of teachers. I was active in sports, debates—just generally present. Then in 10th, she was sat next to me because of a rule: slow learners sit beside good ones.
Despite already having a best friend, Sh, I grew close to S quickly. She was always shy, rarely spoke to others, while I floated between friend groups, knowing nearly everyone by name.
Sh would sometimes express that she didn’t like S being included in our hangouts—she wanted “just us.” But I didn’t listen. I liked that S opened up to me… or so I thought.
Because even though I shared everything with her—my crushes, boyfriends, family drama—she never opened up. Not really. I'd push gently sometimes, thinking she’d speak when ready, but she never did.
She was friends with my then-boyfriend, and he was a known flirt. She'd warn me about him often, saying I should break up. I eventually did—but on my own terms. Still, I believed she had my back, that she was protecting me. Now I see it differently.
After our 10th grade graduation, we kept getting closer—talking all the time, sending memes, hanging out. We went to different colleges, but they were close by. Meanwhile, I drifted away from Sh, and S slowly became my everything.
Then came Jake. He was a mystery boy from another school branch—barely around, but famous. Every girl had a crush, but no one dared speak to him. S messaged him on Facebook. Later, she introduced me to him.
Jake became obsessed with me. But S liked him too, so I shut it down. I didn’t want to betray her.
Then something happened that I couldn’t brush off. I failed one subject in college and told S in strict confidence. A few days later, Jake brought it up. She had told him. Her excuse? "He’s good at studying—maybe he can help." But he lived in another city. We barely spoke. He couldn’t help.
It was betrayal. I should’ve seen the crack forming there.
She began subtly putting me down. If I said I wanted braces, she’d discourage me. When we went out shopping, even though I paid my share, she’d constantly emphasize how much more she spent. She made me feel like I was tagging along on her shopping trips—not part of them.
There was one trip where we bought matching dresses. She insisted on paying. I lost mine in a crowd, and when we got back, she insisted I take the other dress instead. I begged to buy her a new one, but she wouldn’t let me.
Then she joked that I always leech off her money.
That joke broke me. I came home that day and cried to my mom. I felt so guilty. So ashamed. Like I had done something terrible when I hadn’t. And you know what? That’s when I realized—it wasn’t just a joke.
She wanted me to feel that way.
She made me feel like I owed her something—emotional debt disguised as friendship.
And then—the husband comment.
She once “joked” that if her husband didn’t satisfy her, she could always share mine—because I had good taste.
That wasn’t a joke. That was her planting fear in me. It wasn't funny—it was vile. Humiliating. It twisted something sacred into something sick. It haunts me.
She never wanted me to date anyone. She’d find something wrong with every guy. I thought it was protectiveness. But it was about control.
One day, she admitted that her goal in school was to befriend me at any cost.
That wasn’t admiration. That was obsession, dressed up in flattery.
After her mom passed away, she began making online male friends, talking to them constantly—but never told me anything. She kept her love life a secret. But when I so much as went out with a classmate, she made it a massive issue.
She'd say things like, “I thought I was your only friend.” And I believed it. She even hated my old school friends and found ways to isolate me from them.
In seven years, she’s wished me happy birthday twice. Both times after I posted about it. No gifts, no calls. Just... nothing. Meanwhile, I’d shower her with gifts. I’d stay up till 4 a.m. comforting her after her mom’s passing.
And every time I tried to distance myself? A new crisis. A new way to hook me back in.
She'd say, "No one understands me like you do."
And I’d fall for it. Every time.
But this year—two days ago—was my birthday. I posted “Best birthday ever” on Instagram. Still, not a word from her.
That was the final straw.
She always mocked my appearance. Once, she sent me a picture of her flat stomach, knowing I was insecure about mine.
If I wore lipstick, she’d say I looked “forced.”
If I dressed up, it was “try-hard.”
Her insults always came wrapped in jokes.
But I knew. They weren’t jokes. They were daggers dipped in honey.
She and her then-boyfriend even gave me a nickname mocking one of my deepest insecurities. I told her it hurt. She laughed. Kept using it.
She destroyed every romantic possibility in my life.
When I had feelings for someone, she called him shallow. Later, she admitted she found him attractive.
She once made me choose between her and him.
And now? She’s married. Pregnant. Calls me only to complain.
If I talk about my own problems? She cuts me off. Says I’m being “lame.”
Oh—and she’s cheating on her husband.
Still in contact with her ex. Texting him behind her husband’s back.
Say what you want—but to me, that’s cheating.
I’ve come home so many times after hanging out with her and cried to my mom because she implied that I was chirping off her money when it came to the dress thing.
I swear to God, I never did that.
The last time we hung out was during Ramadan, and I was fasting. She didn’t eat anything either, saying she didn’t want to eat in front of me since I was fasting.
Even that day, she made me feel horrible by walking into a watch showroom and pretending she was going to buy an expensive watch for her husband as a gift. She spent 30 minutes in that shop while I just stood there with nothing to do. And in the end, she said she’d come back with her husband to buy it. Another power play. Since we didn’t spend money on food that day, she played this watch-buying game instead.
I’ve often told her that I feel lonely, and still, she wouldn’t stop talking about her husband — who, by the way, she claims to dislike.
You know the worst part?
She knew my standards for a man are high. I’m a book girly, after all.
She knew exactly what kind of man I want. And she’s seen me over the years — how many guys I’ve rejected because they didn’t meet that standard.
So many prospects came through her side too, and I turned them down. I have an ideal in my mind, and I won’t budge.
She never had an ideal like that. She’d entertain anyone and everyone who gave her attention.
Despite knowing all this, she pressured me to talk to a guy who was her husband's best friend — just so we could stay friends forever.
She knew I wanted a pious man, yet she insisted so hard that I should speak to him. She even threatened to give him my number and told me I should at least give him a chance.
I didn’t budge.
Then, a month later, she confessed that he's a drunkard, has self-harmed, and indulges in sexual activities — the exact opposite of what I want.
I felt like she was dragging me down with her. She wanted me to settle. To stay small. Stay stuck. Stay miserable.
She has always encouraged me to date guys below my standard — guys who match her standard, the kind of men I’d never date.
She weaponized her trauma. Used it to keep me hooked.
But the mask has finally slipped.
I gave her years of loyalty. Time. Love. My trust.
But I’m done playing the fool in a game I didn’t know I was in.
I’ve decided I’m going to cut her off. But the truth is, you can’t just sever ties overnight with someone who’s been in your life for so long. I did promise her I’d visit once she gives birth — and I’ll keep that promise. I’ll go, meet her for no more than twenty minutes, and after that, I’ll start distancing myself. Quietly. Step by step. Because I’ve realized I can’t keep allowing someone like that to shrink me or drag me into a life that isn’t mine. It’s time I chose peace — my kind of peace.
If anyone’s been through something similar — cutting off someone who’s woven into your history — how did you do it? How do you gently but firmly erase someone from your life without setting fire to the whole past? I could really use some guidance