She's Just Not That Into You

Jane Johnson Struck
Unless I initiated our get-togethers, they never happened. Ever.

August 6, 2007 |
A girlfriend recently shot me an e-mail about a mutual friend with whom she's tried to stay in touch. "I'm getting tired of always having to initiate contact with her," she groused. "If I don't call or write, I never hear from her. It feels so one-sided. I'd like to be on the receiving end sometimes."

Fed up, my friend told me she'd decided to stop trying so hard to massage this unrequited friendship back to health—and let it die a proper death.

I related to her pain and frustration because I'd been dealing with that same issue.

I used to meet "Jenny" for dinner whenever our husbands were both traveling for business. Brought together through church, we never lacked for things to chat about—our young adult children, our gardens, our interest in flea markets. Catching up over enticing tapas or savory fajitas, we always had a great time together. The friendship chemistry seemed real.

But here's the rub: I always initiated our get-togethers. Wishing our relationship would become more reciprocal, I'd often encourage Jenny to float some dates by me for our next restaurant outing. But unless I followed up by phoning or e-mailing her, it never happened. Ever.

I wonder: Was this a case of "she's just not that into you"?

Maybe my tweak on the pop-culture catch phrase "she's just not that into you," popularized by author/talk-show host Greg Behrendt, explains why some female friendships plateau or bite the dust altogether.

A couple years ago, Behrendt wrote a best-selling book by that title to explain the real reason some men in dating relationships are commitment-phobes. "If a sane guy really likes you, there ain't nothing that's going to get in his way," he says. And the guy who avoids commitment? He's, well ... just not that into you. Ouch!

Sure, Behrendt's talking about matters of the heart. And the pursuit of a love interest isn't the same as that of a friend. But I'd like to believe if a friend were genuinely invested in the friendship, she wouldn't allow busyness, stress, family problems, or work overload to get in the way of carving out just a smidge of time to touch base with me, no matter how briefly or infrequently.

Maybe I'm being naïve. But think about it: If you're always the initiator, you're probably, to put it bluntly, more "into her" than she's "into you."

I used to blame myself when I'd make this painful discovery about a fledging friendship. Am I just plain boring? Plagued by self-doubt, I'd retreat to lick my emotional wounds—a response I fear kept me on the sidelines more often than God wanted for me.

Yet after so many years experiencing the ups and downs of female friendships, I'm finally getting it: The reason she's "just not that into" me might not be my fault at all! Ecclesiastes 3:1 reminds me "there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven." Perhaps the reason your friendship overtures remain unreciprocated is that the friend's struggling in ways you can't imagine. That is, unless you ask.

Of course asking takes courage, because you may find out the other option is true: She's simply not interested in more than the occasional Starbucks grab-and-gab. Hasn't everyone been there? Some of my friendships haven't been as high priority to me as they were to those friends. And I've been much more emotionally attached to a girlfriend or two than they've been to me.

It stings when you realize you've imbued your friendship with more significance, more value, than your friend has. Yet once you get past the pain and, with God's help, let go of the self-blame over a friendship that never takes off (or makes it to a deeper level), you release yourself from the fear of trying again with someone new.

I had to spend some time praying about my disappointment and hurt over Jenny. And God's answered those prayers. I now understand what our connection truly was: encouragement for two lonely women missing their spouses. Nothing less—but nothing more, either. And that's OK. As the old adage says, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." My invites netted me some fun girl-times over great food. Why complain about that?

I know if I were to pick up the phone today and invite Jenny for coffee, she'd be more than happy to meet again. If I ask.

Once in a great while, Jenny and I unintentionally cross paths. When we do, we have a great time chatting. Inevitably one of us offers the requisite "we have to get together soon!" Then life goes on.

Do you have a friend you care about more than she does you? Have you struggled with disappointment and rejection in this arena? What has this taught you about yourself—and God?