The Friend That Was Never Picked

I’ve always wanted to write an article about the feeling, or should I say the reality, of being the friend that is never picked.

And we live in a time where being called a “pick me” is almost a slur, because it gives the impression that you’d throw anybody under the bus for you to be picked. But I think what a lot of people don’t stop and think about are the ones that throw themselves under the bus in order to be picked. The ones that accept the bare minimum. The ones that scrape the barrel because they know that there’s no other option for them, or at least they perceive that there’s no other option.

And I am speaking as one of those people.

I am the friend that was never picked.

I remember going through primary school. Let me preface by saying I’ve never been a fan of school. I think it’s because I always felt like I never fit in. I always felt different and not different in a good way. Not like I thought I was better than everybody. No. I just always felt different.

I’ve never had a lot of friends. Most of the time, I would have one or two friends that I would stick with until I finished primary school.

And I remember one specific moment. There was a party being held. I can’t remember what grade I was in, but it was in primary school and the only two friends I had got invited to the party. I remember thinking: Why doesn’t anybody want me there?

And then there was that time in grade 7.

People would wear t-shirts and go around asking others to sign them, to write something fun about them. I recall having a shirt that was almost blank, because nobody wanted to write anything on it.

I was the person that nobody picked.

And this carried forward into high school.

High school was also not a place I enjoyed, but I was lucky enough to find a group of friends that I felt more connected with. I think it was shared interests, and also just being around such smart people with such different personalities.

But even then, it continued.

I would see how my friends would be asked out, pursued… And I was just there; almost transparent. The only time I was acknowledged was if I was being made fun of for some reason or another. And to this day, I don’t know why that was the case. Maybe because I was very awkward. Maybe because I was ugly. I don’t know.

I think what hurt me the most was when I finally made a new guy friend. I wasn’t interested in him romantically. I just wanted to be his friend. But soon folks were whispering started and a rumour started that he liked me. And as soon as that rumour got traction, he stopped talking to me. At first, I would greet him and he would say nothing, or claim he was in a hurry. I was confused for a while, but then I realised what was happening. This person just didn’t want to be associated with me.

Again, I was the person that was not picked.

And when you go through life as the person that’s not picked, you start accepting the bare minimum.

The bar is in hell.

Looking back now, I watched myself go from one bad, toxic and abusive relationship to another. Whether it was dating a narcissist, being with a man that only wanted my body, or being with someone old enough to be my father. I knew these relationships were bad for me, but I just wanted to be an option.

I’ve always carried so much shame related to the things I did and the things that I accepted. Because I accepted the bare minimum from all these people. All because I wanted to finally be seen. To be finally chosen.

I wish I could say that I’ve let go of that shame. But I haven’t. It feels forever tattooed on my soul.

But I am now in a position where I don’t care about being picked. Because I refuse to be in competition with anyone, and I refuse to let my life be dictated by somebody else’s actions. I am becoming more and more comfortable in the reality that a lot of people don’t like me. That I’m not conventionally attractive. And that I just have to move through life in that way.

I have to look for other things that make me fulfilled. Things that bring me joy. I have come to the realisation that I just have to heal. And in that healing, I need to always choose me.

I should always be number one.

I should always be my top priority.