She Chose Male Validation Over a 13-Year Friendship — And Lied Her Way Through It All

When Loyalty Becomes One-Sided: The Story of a Friendship Torn by Lies, Obsession, and Manipulation

For 13 years, I thought I had a best friend. The kind of ride-or-die friendship you’d expect to outlast any crush, breakup, or phase of life. But then came the obsession. Then the lies. Then the betrayal. And I was left realizing that sometimes, the people closest to you can hurt you the most — especially when they crave male attention more than real loyalty.

Let’s just call her “the girl I used to know.”

When we were kids, she was just like everyone else—silly, awkward, real. But around the time we were both hitting 17, things shifted. It started with a boy. Always a boy.

She fell for this guy—hard. And when I say she couldn’t let go, I don’t mean she was heartbroken for a week. I mean four years of obsession-level heartbreak. Four years of crying in random group chats to strangers, stalking his socials, making up scenarios in her head. I watched her date other guys while still mourning that one boy like she lost a limb. And she dragged me through all of it.

She used me—constantly—as a tool to get closer to guys. Whether it was for validation, advice, or just someone to vent to about her latest male crush, I wasn’t her best friend. I was a backup character in the male-centric movie playing in her head.

Worse? She’d manipulate the truth. She once told our group chat that her mum went to her college and saw her ex making out with a random girl in the hallway. None of that happened. She literally made up that entire story to get sympathy. This wasn’t just teenage drama. This was delusion.

I could handle the drama. I could even handle the lies. But I couldn’t handle being silenced and used. I wasn’t allowed to speak to the guy she liked. I wasn’t allowed to have opinions unless they matched hers. And when I tried to express concern, I was brushed off with, “You just don’t get it.”

No, girl. I got it. I just wasn’t going to enable it anymore.

Then came the summer that broke everything.

We met a guy — let’s call him Deniz. Turkish, from Germany, living in Izmir. The kind of guy who didn’t just catch her eye, he hijacked it. She met him through me, by the way. I added him to a group chat we made for fun. She immediately latched on.

“He’s the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen,” she whispered to me one night. “I swear, he’s the one.”

They started talking. Within a week, they were “boyfriend and girlfriend.” Long-distance, never-met, but still somehow her “healed” era.

And you know what? I was happy. Finally, she had moved on from her years-long fixation on her ex. Finally, she could be free.

But of course, it didn’t last.

By fall, she came to me with worry in her eyes. “I think Deniz is cheating on me.”

Turns out — he was. Not once. Not twice. Four times.

I found out about three of them for her. I literally did the digging. Checked the receipts. Caught the lies. Showed her screenshots. The fourth time, she found out on her own.

Did she leave him?

No. She stayed. And then—get this—he told her one lie about me.

Just one. And suddenly, I was the enemy.

She ghosted me. Cut me off. Told her entire friend group (people I’d barely even spoken to) that I was fake. That I betrayed her.

I was stunned. Speechless. After everything—after saving her from being played multiple times—she believed him.

I realized something horrifying then: she didn’t love me as a friend. She loved what I could give her. Access to guys. Emotional labor. Someone to clean up her mess.

She picked male validation over a 13-year friendship, and she did it with a smile on her face and lies on her tongue.

I don’t usually vent like this. I don’t write posts like this. But if there’s one person out there dealing with a friend who constantly disrespects their loyalty in the name of love, please listen to me:

You are not crazy for walking away.

You are not weak for being hurt.

You are not selfish for choosing peace.

It took me years to realize that not every friendship is meant to last. Sometimes, the people you’d take bullets for are the ones loading the gun behind your back.

Her? She might still be in her spiral. Still chasing the same validation. Still lying to whoever’s willing to listen. But me? I’ve let go.

And you should too.

(The video link is the song that me and her would never stop listening to)