Karen is 60, single, and – until recently – perfectly content with her circle of five long-standing girlfriends. Together they’ve shared a rhythm of dinners, small gigs, pub nights and the easy companionship that comes with familiarity. But lately, the seats around the table have been emptying. One by one, her friends have found new partners. And each time, it has played out the same way: excitement, infatuation, sudden absence.
At present, three of the five are wrapped up with new men, leaving Karen with a quieter weekend diary and growing resentment. She has seen this pattern before; experience tells her some of the relationships won’t last, and when they falter, her friends will return to the group ready for cocktails and consoling. But this knowledge offers little comfort. What troubles her most is the sense of being discarded, as if friendship is a stopgap until romance comes along.
The question she finds herself asking – late at night, over a solo glass of wine – is whether these women are truly her friends.
The Push and Pull of midlife friendships
Psychologists who study friendship describe it as one of the most critical predictors of health and happiness in later life. But it is also a fragile bond, subject to the shifting sands of circumstances, family obligations and, yes, romantic entanglements.
Dating in one’s sixties can feel particularly high stakes. Time feels precious, opportunities for new love narrower. It’s not unusual, says Dr Harriet Jordan, a relationships counsellor, for women in new partnerships to retreat into the intensity of it, eager to nurture something that feels rare and hopeful. “It isn’t necessarily a rejection of their friends,” Jordan explains. “It’s a rebalancing of focus, often unconsciously, and it can look like forgetfulness or neglect from the outside.”
For those left behind, however, the experience can feel alarmingly like abandonment. Long-standing rituals are disrupted. The social network that steadied you through widowhood, divorce or long single years suddenly thins out.
Are they “Real” friends?
Karen’s unease boils down to a simple but loaded question: are friends who only return when single still friends at all? The answer, unhelpfully, is neither black nor white.
Yes, they are friends. Shared history, affection, and trust don’t vanish when someone falls in love. But they are also revealing – perhaps inadvertently – that their priorities rank romance above female bonding.
This truth can sting. Yet part of midlife maturity is recognising that friendships don’t have to be everything to us, all the time. What Karen must decide is whether the warmth of these women – even intermittently – still enriches her life enough to outweigh the frustration.
Communicating without confrontation
The temptation might be to unleash disappointment directly: Why do you only show up when you’re single? But accusatory words rarely shift behaviour.
A better approach is to voice her feelings rather than their failings. Next time she manages to gather the group – even if it’s just two out of five – Karen might say something like, “I miss you all when you’re not around. Our evenings out mean a lot to me. When plans fall away, I feel a little left behind.”
Notice the emphasis: not you are neglectful, but I feel lonely when our time together disappears. This framing makes it harder for friends to feel judged and easier for them to respond with empathy.
She could also invite them to meet her halfway. Suggesting early, non-negotiable “girls’ nights” once a month, regardless of romantic diaries, sets clearer expectations. New partners can wait for a Friday evening out; friendships deserve ritual too.
Finding Balance – and reclaiming independence
There is also an uncomfortable but liberating truth beneath this scenario: perhaps it is time for Karen to widen her horizons beyond the dependency on this single group. While their absence has highlighted the hurt, it has also spotlighted an opportunity.
Sixty can be, if one is willing, a thrillingly free decade. Joining a walking group, a choir, or enrolling in a cooking course opens fresh circles of companionship. New friendships don’t replace old ones, but they do dilute the disappointment when old patterns frustrate.
And there is empowerment in knowing your social world doesn’t hinge on the availability of four women with shifting love lives.
Holding on, Letting go
In the end, no friendship is perfect. Karen’s friends may indeed come back, makeup bags in hand, when and if their romances falter. She can choose to extend forgiveness and recognise their vulnerability in love, just as she hopes they would forgive her lapses.
But she can also recalibrate. It is entirely fair to communicate that she values consistency, that being droppedbruises her, and that she would like their support whether she has a man in her life or not.
True friendship, after all, is not measured in constant attendance, but in the willingness to listen when called upon. If these women are friends in the real sense, they should be able to hear her truths – without retreating further.
For Karen, the power lies in trusting that she is both worthy of dependable company and capable of creating it anew. Missing her friends is natural. Defining her happiness by their absence is not necessary.
And perhaps that is the most reassuring message as she navigates the ebb and flow of these relationships: love may sweep her friends away temporarily, but friendship – like the tide – almost always returns.
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