How To, Rather, How NOT To Be a Friend

How not to be a friend is to disappear when we fuck up and accountability is required.

In any real friendship (and this includes intimate relationships) there’s far more good than bad, more lightness than heaviness, or you wouldn’t be friends in the first place. That part’s easy. The laughter, the shared joys and experiences, the comfort, the sense of being known. But being human means mucking shit up. It means saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing and then avoiding the fallout, acting out of fear or ego or old patterns. Or that has been my experience anyway. And that’s where the real test lives. Not in the good moments, but in what happens when something breaks and the relationship asks something more of you.

Loyalty, honesty, and being a stand up person sound simple until they’re tested. Loyalty isn’t about agreement or blind allegiance. It isn’t lip service. It’s about not vanishing when things get uncomfortable. Staying engaged even when you’re embarrassed, defensive, or unsure how to fix what you fucked up. Honesty’s not just telling the truth when it’s convenient. It’s dealing with things instead of pretending they’ll go away, and not avoiding the conversation just because it’s scary or uncomfortable. Being a stand up person means your word matters, that you take responsibility when you fall short, and that you don’t confuse intention with impact. I’ve failed at this more times than I care to count. That’s not a confession meant to soften what comes next. It’s just the truth. Friendship isn’t about never fucking up; it’s about what happens after you do. It’s about whether you show up when things get tangled and uncomfortable, whether you stay in the conversation when it’d be easier to retreat, and whether you’re willing to sit with the consequences of your actions instead of trying to explain your way out of them.

Dishonesty and evasive behavior have to be called out, including in ourselves - especially in ourselves. Avoidance and shady bullshit don’t protect relationships, it erodes them. When you get called to the carpet, the work isn’t to defend yourself or smooth things over and that is where I always seem to end up. The work is to sit in it - sit in the mess that you made. To stay present in the discomfort, the shame, and the hurt you caused. It’s embarrassing and it’s hard, but staying is how you keep your dignity and uphold the dignity of the person you love. Staying is how repair becomes possible. Failing to stand up and own our shit will burn it all down, not all at once, but slowly and predictably. The same patterns will continue repeating over and over again until the good no longer outweighs the bad.

Daddy’s always said that every time we avoid the hard work in relationships, every time we sweep something under the rug instead of dealing with it, we’re laying a brick. At first the wall’s low. You can step over it and keep going. After awhile, stepping over it isn’t enough and it starts to require some climbing. You notice the effort. You feel the strain. You tell yourself it’s fine. But in that repeating pattern, the wall gets higher, until eventually it’s too high to climb over at all. That’s how relationships end. Not because of one catastrophic failure, but because of accumulated avoidance and tired behaviors that don’t get fixed.

One of the hardest parts of this for me’s been resisting the urge to explain myself out of responsibility when I fail and get called out. I admit that I do struggle to find the words for this, and it is so nuanced depending on the level of fucked up the actions were. But the best way I can think of to describe it is that explaining/excusing sometimes feels like accountability to me, it’s self protection disguised as accountability but it is a far cry from real accountability. It feels like if I can explain what I meant, the impact will feel smaller, less intentional, easier to live with. But intent and impact are two separate things. Intent lives with the person who acted, where impact lives with the person who was hurt. When someone you love tells you that you hurt them, the explanation isn’t the priority. The impact is. That’s the thing that needs attention and care.

I’ve learned that explaining can actually cause more harm. It can feel like arguing with someone’s experience or prioritizing my own discomfort over their pain. Or even my pain over their pain; because yes, it hurts to fuck up and see that pain in someone you love (unless you’re just a cold unfeeling asshole). But in those moments, my pain is a result of my own shitty actions and doesn’t matter to the other person. Why would it? Even when I don’t mean it to come off that way, that’s how it lands. When you love someone, it doesn’t really matter whether the harm was intentional. That’s not the meat and potatoes. What matters is the impact of your words or actions and what you do next.

So, in 2026 I want to be more intentional about how I show up, for my Daddy, for my metamour, (Mistress Mommy), House of Raven and for my inner circle. Not because I don’t care about being a stand up person with everyone I share space with, but because the people that I love and who have chosen me, deserve the most care, the most honesty, and the most effort. They deserve the best of me and that kind of presence doesn’t happen by accident. It requires attention. It requires slowing down. It requires choosing differently when those old habits kick in.

I’ve been doing real work with my therapist; the uncomfortable kind, unpacking old trauma and looking honestly at the reasons I sometimes fail the people that I love. Trauma explains a lot. It gives context. But it isn’t an excuse and it doesn’t lessen the impact of the harm we cause. Understanding where behavior comes from doesn’t erase what that behavior does to other people. I’ve struggled with evasive behavior. I’ve lied by omission, leaving out important information out of fear of rejection and loss. I’ve done it to get out of trouble. I’ve done it to get what I want. It hurts to say that out loud, but it’s true. And while the impact may not have been what I wanted, it’s still the impact I created. That’s the moment where the real work starts.

Stopping the pattern is harder than understanding it. Sitting in accountability is harder than unpacking trauma. Staying present when shame shows up is harder than walking away. But that’s the work. That’s the part that actually changes things and restores trust and loyalty. And while this may seem like TMI - like, why would I air my bad behaviors - well, it’s two-fold… as a former titleholder and leader in the Leather community, I think that sharing examples of who NOT to be is as important as giving face - and it keeps me humble and helps me to reach others in the community who may be dealing with the same shit. I didn’t want to be a leader because I just wanted a sash and a back patch. I did it to feel like I was contributing. I wanted to connect with people, to leave something behind. It also keeps me accountable. Accountable to myself and the people that I love by naming the thing I want to be better at. And that is exciting to me.

That’s what I’m committing to in 2026.

I don’t do resolutions. I don’t give a fuck how many times I go to the gym this year. I’ll probably keep donating to Planet Fitness and never showing up, and I’m sure they enjoy my money. I’m probably not giving up my vices, including gummy candy and too much Diet Dr. Pepper. I’ll likely lose a little more weight thanks to my GLP 1, and that’s fine. But the work that matters to me is this. Being more honest. Less evasive. Saying the hard things. It’s protecting my people and their hearts, even when things get in the weeds. Being willing to stay in it when situations or conversations get uncomfortable. I want to be more intentional with the people I love. Catching myself sooner. ALWAYS choosing honesty and openness, when taking the easy out is, well, easier.

That’s the kind of change I believe in. The kind of work I think we can all do better. That is what I am excited about in the coming months, because while it is hard work, it is proud work.

So here’s to 2026, and retiring from brick laying.