On Disliking your Friends' Boyfriends

Do your friends really know best?

In my humble opinion, if you reach the point where your friends dislike your boyfriend, the relationship is doomed forever.

Let me explain.

The first time I met Sam was when he almost crashed his bike into mine on our first day of university while cycling to lectures. Little did I realise this moment would foreshadow one of the common themes of our relationship—that he would remain more in love with his bike than me, and use his long-distance cycling habit as an excuse to ignore my messages (anyway, moving on…).

We remained in similar circles without really crossing paths properly for over a year. I noticed him though and thought he was cute.

By the time we matched on Tinder, we’d had a couple of passing conversations. The first one after our bike crash, where he profusely apologised. The second at a mutual friend’s party.

In matching—despite both of us playing it off as a joke—we were given the green light to go ahead with the courting process. We kissed one night in a club, and all was set in motion from there.

From the start of our relationship, there was uncertainty, both of us trying to play it cool. Would he reply to my message? Would there be another date? Was he serious about me, or was I just another short-lived fling? I wouldn’t describe it as tumultuous, because my interactions with him and towards him were always very measured. It was my friends who bore the brunt of my anxieties.

I think some of the most powerful moments of bonding with friends occur when crying over a boy, especially when you are both simultaneously going through it.

Jane and I lay on the floor of our bedroom looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t take it anymore, can we go do something, otherwise I’ll go crazy.”

“Let’s do a trip to Tescos. Do you need anything?”

“No, not really.”

“Let’s get stuff for pancakes. That will take our minds off things.”

And so, off we went to Tesco to buy milk, eggs and flour, ranting as we went in a state of ever-increasing hysteria that would only be quelled upon making the third pancake back in our kitchen, when my phone buzzed.

‘Sorry it’s been crazy lately, rehearsals all day yesterday, then cycled 200 km today.’

I felt an inordinate sense of relief in the bundle of letters on the screen. There was a chance for us after all.

But Jane already disliked Sam. I should have known from that moment that the relationship was doomed.

The way our closest friends view our partners will often, not always, but often, turn out to be a significantly more accurate in hindsight than our own judgements. It is easy in the early stages of a relationship to get swept up in the highs of the rose-tinted spectacles, the rush of emotion, to forget the times that they made you doubt them as soon as a small gesture is made, or the relationship progresses.

But your best friend will not forget. She will keep tabs. You may have mentally swept under the rug that time you cried to her because he replied bluntly to your good morning text. She will not.

Of course, it is only natural to confide in our close friends our anxieties about relationships, old or new. But we should be aware, the group chat with your two best girlfriends titled ‘boy drama’ exclusively dedicated to updates and analysis on the slightly baffling behaviour of the boy you’re seeing, probably doesn’t leave the future of your relationship standing in the best stead.

It is an incredible blessing to have friends who love you and want the best for you. But be aware that they will hold your partner to the standards that you should have had all along.

I’ve been on the other side of this too.

My best friend Susie dated a boy for the best part of eight years, whom our group of friends collectively disliked. We didn’t dislike him from the start, but over time our views changed for a variety of reasons. The lack of effort on his part to call her when they were long-distance. The subtle jibes when he was invited to group events implying that our conversations were shallow. The patronising tone used towards Susie that reared its head on one two many occasions. We were only seeing the tip of the iceberg, yet we knew something wasn’t right.

Which leads me to the question, should you tell your best friend that you don’t like their boyfriend?

A variety of approaches have been taken to this one among our friend group—Jane, Ruby, and I. It was agreed we couldn’t tell Susie outright. That would break her heart. Yet surely it was our responsibility, as good friends to start to plant the seeds of doubt in her mind.

Ruby took the approach of attempting to drop not-so-subtle hints whenever the opportunity presented itself.

First, during a coffee date, she told Susie the story of her aunt and uncle, whom like Susie and her boyfriend James, had been together since they were eighteen years old and had never really dated anyone other than each other. “Well you see,” said Ruby, “they realised that they might resent each other if they got married without ever having had the opportunity to date anyone else, so they agreed to go on a break for several months knowing that if it was meant to be they’d come back together.”

“Hmm and what happened?”

“Well they got back together in the end and got married, but they were really glad they gave the breakup a chance.”

“Right.”

Susie later admitted to Jane that she thought perhaps Ruby didn’t like James very much. Understatement of the century.

On another occasion, Ruby gifted Susie the book ‘Heartburn’ by Nora Ephron, hoping that she would see the parallels between the relationship depicted in the book and her own. What Ruby thought Susie would have in common with a thirty-eight year old woman grappling with the end of her marriage with her cheating husband (James had never cheated) I don’t know, but Ruby seemed convinced this would help her see the light.

Jane and I, in contrast didn’t have the heart to lay bare our dislike for James. Instead we let out our pent up frustration with his treatment of her by bitching about him whenever Susie wasn’t there. I hate to admit this, but it became kind of fun—a secret bond strengthened by the shared reality of our mutual loathing.

So why is it so easy to dislike our friend’s partners?

Maybe because we love our friends and it hurts to see them settling for someone less than they’re worth. Maybe because it feels uncomfortable to see a friend putting up with things they’d never accept in a friendship, all because they are blinded by the love goggles.

I’ll be the first to admit that my friends never liked my ex-boyfriend Sam, and, if I’m honest, they really did know best.

I can’t remember now whether they told me their true feelings while I was with him. But I knew. I knew from the sideways glances, the ‘you deserve better’ comments, the looks of disdain when I spoke about him. But in the words left unsaid, I found the strength to leave, knowing my friends would be there whatever decision I made.

We can’t tell our friends how to live their lives. We can voice an opinion, or not, but ultimately they are responsible for their choices and their happiness.

And sometimes we are wrong. What we are told about a relationship will always be one-sided. It is easy to put our friends on a pedestal thinking they can do no harm. Anyone who has dealt with a break up amongst two members of a friendship group will know this all too well. Sometimes people who we love and adore as friends can be absolute disasters in relationships.

Nevertheless, I still remember the collective sense of relief felt when James and Susie broke up. After everything, he dumped her. The cheek!

It’s only been recently, about a year or so after that we admitted to Susie the extent our mutual dislike. “Yeah, I kind of guessed,” Susie said, laughing.

I suppose we had been quite harsh on him in the wake of the break up. After all, what are friends for, if not to convince you that your ex-boyfriend was a psychopath.

“It’s not you. You’re lovely. It’s vile Richard.”

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Should you tell your friend if you dislike their partner? Let me know what you think in the comments. <3