I’m so hurt by ‘friends’ who bailed out on my birthday

DEAR BEL

LAST week was my 30th birthday. I had a meal with my closest friends and then we went out. On the surface it was a lot of fun but in reality it stung like an unpleasant bee. While I only invited my closest friends for the meal, I invited a wider, varied group of friends for drinks afterwards. I didn’t want to make a big thing of it, so I invited the people I really wanted. Many said: ‘Yes, ok, fine’ — though a few said they couldn’t make it in spite of the advance notice. Then one by one, all the people I’d expected messaged with apologies and excuses the day before. If it had happened just this once I could put it down to bad luck, but it isn’t. Since I was young I’ve had crappy birthdays, invited people out and then have them not turn up. It’s infuriating. Last year it was literally just me and my best friend. It’s not as if it’s the same people. People come in and out of your life all the time yet behave in the same way. It’s not like I’m disorganised — I let people know it’s coming up. Obviously, I could look on the bright side and say at least I spent it with my closest friends, but I do count the others as good friends, see them plenty, they’re part of my life. It just makes me feel worthless. They don’t care enough to make an effort and flimsy excuses reveal I’m not a priority. It makes me feel like I don’t matter to people, even though I’m in their lives as much as they are in mine. The fact that only three people care enough to celebrate with me is gut-wrenching. I’d love to have a proper birthday one year with a DJ playing cheesy tunes — but I don’t because, subconsciously, I know no one will turn up and I’d be humiliated. Part of me wants to have a big rant on Facebook and shame them. Or to cut everyone from my life and start again somewhere else. Another part never wants to celebrate another birthday because I’ve been let down and disappointed so many times over the years. Part of me thinks that if I died tomorrow, no one would come to my funeral because they had better things to do. Why does this happen? And what should I do about it? ROB

Poor old Polonius, the fussy courtier in Shakespeare’s Hamlet gave his departing son Laertes plenty of good advice, including some words on friendship. They’ll do for you too: Those friends thou hast, and

their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with

hoops of steel; But do not dull the palm with entertainment Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade.

In other words, once you’ve tested out your friends and found them trustworthy, hold onto them. But don’t waste your time shaking hands with every new, immature friend you meet. Do you see? So you’re wise to rejoice that you did share your birthday with three really good friends.

At the same time, I can’t blame you for this deep hurt at the casual behaviour of the others. Your sense of being excluded and neglected is (I suspect) just how I’d feel, too.

In fact, I confess (just between you and me) that I haven’t had a book launch since 1993 because I cannot bear the thought of being disappointed by no-shows.

I absolutely detest people who accept invitations then don’t show or cry off at the last minute with a flimsy excuse. Does that make us both (you still young, me at the other end of life) a bit feeble? Well, so be it. I no longer need to hide my vulnerable humanity.

Ah, but perhaps you need to hide it. Whatever you do, never ever show your vulnerability on social media,

because it will just rebound and possible destroy you.

I have just read about yet another version of online brutality called ‘sadfishing’. This is when a young person shares details about personal problems on social media only to be mocked.

They are sad and vulnerable, ‘fishing’ for sympathy, only to be met with ridicule that makes them feel even worse. So beware. Never reveal, in sorrow or anger, your neediness online, because it might receive a serious kicking.

I wonder if much of the problem is associated with what I call your generation’s FOCA — no, not a variety of bread but a fear of committing to arrangements.

Me, I invite people on email and then write things down in a real diary. But when everything is clicked through casually in phone messages there is no reality. It’s a virtual arrangement — not really existing in the real world and therefore easily broken.

I bet if a friend had arranged a 30th at a smart place and sent real invitations people might have shown up — because they thought it special.

Of course, they might not. I once gave a very smart drinks party in London, at a lovely venue, to celebrate a big birthday and even though I had to pay for canapés in advance, about six or seven people who had accepted just didn’t show.

It was rude and cost me money as well as feelings. Never again!

Have you ever seen the movie, Little Man Tate? That terrible scene where mother and son have the room ready for his party and nobody shows. What can you do? Get a bit tough. Grow a shell. Realise that new friends do come and go and won’t count until they prove their worth, just as Polonius said.

Stick to the oldies but goodies. Cultivate that ‘ surface’ you mention — and stay cool, leaving no chink for that nasty little bee to find a way through and sting you.

None of this means you become a nastier person. It just means you learn to protect your soft underbelly from a careless world — which is always good counsel.