This has been sitting heavy on me for a while, and I’ve (Male, early 20s) been doing a lot of reflecting lately. I’m not perfect — I’ve looked at this situation from every angle, asked myself if I was overreacting, and talked with my sister, therapist, and a few close people in my life. They’ve all told me the same thing: “You’re not wrong for setting boundaries — those people weren’t your real friends.”

Still, it hurts. So here’s what happened.

Back when I was in college, I met this guy — we’ll call him Avery. He told me he didn’t really know anyone at the school, so me trying to be a big bro, I welcomed him into my circle. I introduced him to my friend group, put him on socially, and tried to help him get acclimated. I’ve always had a soft spot for people who seem like loners, especially because of my own background — more on that later.

From the start, there were red flags. Avery was the type of person to constantly talk behind everyone’s back — and I mean everyone in the friend group. He’d throw shade in private, and then smile in their faces the next day. He always had something slick to say, but when called out, he’d play it off like people were too sensitive. On top of that, the dude had a serious pattern of weird behavior. For example, one time at a college bar, he literally tried to secretly record me while I was making out with a girl — and she had one of her boobs in my mouth. Her friend caught him and told him to stop, thankfully, but who does that?

Then there’s the fact that he got a woman pregnant — someone who was struggling with addiction — and just abandoned the child entirely. He acted like it wasn’t his problem anymore. That told me everything I needed to know about his character.

But despite all of this, the people in my friend group — who I introduced him to — never really took a stand. They agreed he was wrong, admitted his behavior was out of pocket, but they still continued hanging around him. They’d fake-check in with me via text and social media, all while still kicking it with someone who was actively messy, sneaky, and toxic.

What really broke things for me, though, was the situation with Jenny.

Jenny and I had known each other for about four years. We kind of lost contact for a year, but one day I saw her pop up in my suggested followers tab on Instagram. I followed her, and she followed me back immediately. It felt like a small moment, but it meant a lot. I wanted to reconnect — we’d always had a vibe and mutual interest. But since we hadn’t talked in a minute, I didn’t want to force anything, so I didn’t jump into her DMs right away.

About three months later, graduation happens. And everything shifted.

Jenny suddenly started ignoring my stories, stopped liking or acknowledging any of my posts, and out of nowhere… she was following Avery. Not just following him — commenting on his posts, laughing at his stuff, giving energy to his content. Meanwhile, Avery — this sneaky ass dude — starts spam-liking her thirst traps, blowing up her posts, trying to interact constantly like a fanboy. Huge red flag.

And what made it worse? Avery knew how I felt about Jenny. I had told him. He’d seen us together. He knew there was history and mutual respect between us. But because she had seen me and Avery around each other before (back when we were closer during freshman year), she probably assumed we were still tight — like best friends or something. In reality, I had been slowly distancing myself from him for months.

But when she saw us at friends with each other during freshmen year, it created this false narrative. And somehow, I was the one who ended up ghosted, ignored, and misrepresented — all because he spoke on me like he had authority to.

And that’s the thing: he didn’t. We weren’t even that close anymore. We barely talked — just once in a while. So for him to insert himself into situations that had nothing to do with him, and possibly taint a connection I had spent years building… that cut deep.

When I finally confronted him, he straight-up used my own trauma against me.

“Oh, so you think everyone’s against you, huh? lol.”

You see, I grew up in a mentally, emotionally, and physically abusive household. My bipolar mother used to belittle me, hit me, manipulate me, and even opened credit cards in my name. I was already distrustful of people because of the way I was raised. I didn’t grow up with a real support system — wasn’t close to either side of my extended family. And even now, outside of my sister and dad, I don’t have a solid day-to-day support circle. Just people I talk to occasionally.

So when I got to college, I made an intentional effort to open up, build friendships, and give people chances. I tried to lead with love and loyalty. I bought Ubers for folks when they were stranded. Paid for meals. Covered Avery’s expenses when he said he couldn’t go out because of his budget — I told him, “Don’t worry bro, I got you.”

And that’s what made all of this hurt even more.

I poured into people. I showed up. I stood on morals and principles. And in return, I got a friend group who chose comfort over calling out real behavior. Who said Avery was wrong, but still chilled with him. Who watched someone move foul and then kept him in the fold.

I’m not perfect. I’ve reflected hard on this. Wondered if I could’ve handled certain convos better. Asked myself, “Did I give off the wrong energy?” But when I brought this all to my therapist, my sister, and the few people who actually know me, they all said:

“You’re not crazy. You’re not wrong. You did what you had to do to protect yourself.”

And they’re right. Because Avery never even apologized. He said he didn’t feel like he needed to — because in his words, “I had good intentions” and “it wasn’t that deep.”

Imagine wrecking relationships and violating trust, and thinking that because you didn’t think it was a big deal, no one else should.

So yeah. I cut off the whole group. It wasn’t an easy decision. I don’t have another tight-knit crew to lean on now. But honestly, I’d rather be alone than surrounded by people who only stand on principle when it’s convenient.

I’m working through the pain. I know not everyone is like this. I want to believe in good people again. But healing from this has been hard. And it’s still ongoing.

Thanks for reading if you got this far.

I guess I just needed to get this off my chest.

Was I wrong?