There are friends, and then there are so-called friends. Those of us who have lived a little—traveled the rocky terrain of human relationships—know that a so-called friend can be far more damaging than even the most committed enemy. I learned this the hard way, and I believe it’s a lesson worth sharing.
The particular type I’m talking about is the drunk, jealous, narcissistic gold digger. They’re not the loud opponent who calls you out and confronts you openly. No, they’re the ones who show up at your table, toast to your successes, and then set about dismantling them behind your back.
This kind of individual thrives on envy and entitlement. They’re not content to cheer you on; instead, they seethe at the thought of your accomplishments. And when you succeed, their first thought is not joy for your good fortune, but resentment that it wasn’t them. They’ll come to your parties, laugh at your jokes, and even take selfies with you—only to quietly claim that they were the true architects of your success.
Their loyalty isn’t born of love or respect. It’s transactional. These so-called friends measure relationships by what they can extract: money, social standing, connections, influence. Once they’ve bled you dry—or once they believe you can no longer serve their interests—they discard you without a second thought.
The destructive power of these false friends is magnified by alcohol. For some, a drink or two might lubricate social interactions, but for these people, alcohol is like pouring gasoline on the fire of their insecurities. Their jealousy intensifies, their sense of entitlement swells, and their behavior becomes even more erratic. Simple disagreements escalate into theatrical meltdowns. Private moments become public spectacles. What could have been a minor misunderstanding turns into a catastrophic breach, all because their insecurities run wild under the influence.
What makes these so-called friends particularly insidious is their masquerade. They wear the mask of camaraderie, sidling up to you as though they have your best interests at heart. They offer advice, support, and encouragement—but only until you start to outshine them. At that point, their support becomes sabotage. Their “advice” leads you astray. Their “support” collapses at critical junctures. And before you know it, you’re left questioning your own judgment and talents.
What hurts the most about their betrayal isn’t just the damage to your career, reputation, or peace of mind. It’s the realization that the person who hurt you wasn’t a distant rival or a faceless critic. It was someone you once welcomed into your home, shared your secrets with, and called a friend. That kind of treachery stings more deeply because it’s so personal. It’s not just an attack on your achievements; it’s an attack on your trust, your confidence, and your ability to open up to others.
In my own life, I’ve seen how this kind of false friend operates. As someone who has traversed many different communities and beliefs—from my time in Islam to my eventual embrace of the gospel of Christ—I’ve encountered individuals who, at first, seemed to stand by me. But as I grew and changed—professionally, spiritually, and personally—their envy grew, too. They couldn’t handle my successes or my transformation. Their jealousy turned to sabotage, their support became a snare. And in the end, I realized they had been pretending to care for me while quietly working against me all along.
When you encounter such a person, the only way forward is to cut ties. No amount of explaining, reasoning, or mediating will change their character. They don’t see relationships the way you do; they see only what they can take. The sooner you recognize them for what they are, the sooner you can reclaim your peace of mind and protect yourself from further harm.
Sometimes, our greatest enemy isn’t the rival on the battlefield or the critic in the crowd. It’s the so-called friend who whispers encouragement in one ear while planting seeds of doubt in the other. It’s the person who pretends to celebrate your wins but is, in reality, dismantling your foundation piece by piece.
Beware the false friend. They’re not worth the price you pay to keep them in your life.
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