You can spot cheap friends fast: they text when they need a ride, vanish when you’re hurting, and send Venmo requests for $2 like it’s payroll. They change the subject when you open up, minimize your wins, and keep score over favors. Add gossip, “accidental” betrayals, and little boundary tests. You’re not crazy—there’s a pattern. Name it, set limits, stop chasing, and watch who shows up when you don’t. Want the telltale signs?
They Only Reach Out When They Need Something
Even if you want to give them the benefit of the doubt, you notice their pattern: they pop up only when there’s something in it for them. You don’t hear a peep until they need a ride, a contact, or help fixing a mess. Then your phone lights up with opportunistic contact and transactional messages: “Hey!! Quick favor?” They skip how you’re doing and jump straight to the ask. Plans you suggest? They go quiet. Your wins? They’re busy.
Pay attention to timing. Screenshot threads. You’ll see the spikes right before their needs. Test it. Stop initiating for two weeks. Do they vanish? Set boundaries: “I can’t do that, but hope you find a solution.” Real friends adjust. Users fade. Silence tells you plenty.
Scorekeeping Over Small Favors
When someone treats friendship like a spreadsheet, you feel it. They log who drove last, who bought fries, who replied faster. You can almost see the favor ledger in their eyes. Every hangout turns into mental accounting. You spot the tally marks: Venmo requests for $2, reminders about borrowed pens, the “I did X, so you owe me Y” speech. That’s not generosity. That’s billing.
Call it out calmly. Say, “Let’s stop keeping score. I help because I want to.” Set limits. Decline petty charges. Pay your share, not their interest. Offer clear swaps for bigger tasks, like rides to the airport, and leave coffee off the books. True friends balance over time. Cheap friends chase receipts. If they resist, note it. Adjust closeness.
Disappearing When You Need Support
If your texts go cold the minute life gets hard, take note. A real friend shows up when the plot twists. When you get bad news, move, or face a bill you didn’t expect, do they vanish? They blame time conflicts and work demands like they’re weather events. Everyone’s busy. People still send a quick call, voice note, or a ride offer. They check in tomorrow if not today.
Track patterns. Who only replies when you’re fine or useful? Who never follows through after “Let me know”? Try one clear ask: “Can you watch the kids Tuesday?” or “Can you pick me up?” See what happens. If it’s silence, downgrade access. Stop over-giving. Invest where support actually arrives. That’s not petty. That’s maintenance, friend.
Dodging Emotional Labor and Empathy
Because feelings take effort, a cheap friend treats yours like spam. They dodge check-ins, change the subject, or joke it away. When you open up, they hand you a podcast link and bounce. That’s emotional outsourcing. They want the credit for “being there” without the work. Watch for empathy avoidance: no follow-up texts, glazed eyes, zero questions. You get “That sucks” and a pivot to weather.
Test them. Say what you need: “Can you listen for five minutes?” Time it. Do they interrupt, fix, or vanish? Set a boundary: “I can’t keep sharing if it’s one-sided.” Pause your updates. Notice who notices. Invest where curiosity lives: “How did it go? Any updates?” Real friends carry a corner of the box. Cheap ones drop it.
Minimizing Your Wins, Spotlighting Theirs
Watch how they react when you share a win: they shrug, change the subject, or slap on a faint “nice” while you’re still holding the cake. Then check the pattern—when they win, you’re expected to throw confetti, post, and clap like a seal. Note the subtle envy tells too: backhanded compliments, quick comparison games, and little eye flicks; start tracking who actually cheers, stop shrinking your news, and give less airtime to people who can’t handle it.
Downplaying Your Achievements
While it’s your moment, they shrink it to a footnote. You share a hard-earned win, and they slap on imposter framing. “Anyone could’ve done it.” Sure. After months of grind. They toss luck attribution on top. “Right place, right time.” Cute. They also resize your work: “Just a small upgrade,” “Basically nothing,” or “Not that hard.” Then they pivot to a comparison that puts you under. They quiz you for flaws, not lessons. They downshift your language, and you start doing it too. Stop the slide. Name the move: “That sounds like luck, but I planned this.” Give a crisp stat, a before-and-after, or a receipt. Redirect vague shade into specifics: “What part seems easy?” If they can’t answer, you’ve got your answer. Clear.
One-Sided Celebration Patterns
Even when you bring good news, they give you a polite thumbs-up and then roll out a fireworks show for their stuff. You land a promotion; they send an emoji. They ace trivia; they text the group like it’s the Super Bowl. That’s a one-sided celebration pattern. Notice the selective sharing: your wins get quiet, theirs get parades. Watch for memory editing later, when they swear they “totally made a big deal.” Track specifics. Who sets the dinner? Who posts, calls, or shows up with cake? Try a simple test: pick a small win and invite a toast. Do they come, reschedule, or vanish? Set a rule: you celebrate me, I celebrate you. If they balk, scale back your energy. Protect your time, joy.
Subtle Envy Signals
Because envy rarely shouts, it shows up as small cuts. When you share a win, they shrug, change the topic, or joke it away. They offer backhanded compliments like, “Must be nice to get lucky.” Then they post their own highlight reel five minutes later. That’s competitive mirroring. Your news becomes their prompt to flex. Watch how they minimize effort you spent, or credit someone else. Notice who never asks follow‑ups. Real friends dig in. Cheap friends pivot.
Test them. Share a minor success and see if they can stay on you for sixty seconds. Set boundaries: “I’m celebrating today; let’s keep it here.” Limit what you share. Track patterns after calls. If you always feel smaller, you’ve got your answer. Act on it.
One-Sided Planning and Logistics
If you’re always the one picking a time, booking the table, and texting reminders, that’s not leadership—it’s unpaid labor. You chase RSVPs, build the chat, and nudge people like a hall monitor. Meanwhile, they float in, act surprised, and leave you to sweep up the calendar crumbs. That’s one-sided planning. It drains you. It also hides entitlement. Notice who grabs itinerary control and who dodges it. Do they ever handle venue selection, parking details, or a backup plan? Ask once, clearly: “Can you choose the place and make the reservation?” Then pause. Don’t rescue the silence. If they stall, rotate out. Set a shared list and a deadline. No plan by Friday? You’re free. Stop carrying their social life. Let them earn the invite.
Nickel-and-Diming Generosity
While they swear they’re “just being fair,” they ping you for $2.13 for shared fries and dodge tax and tip like it’s a sport. They Venmo request small reimbursements with itemized notes, yet forget the gas you covered or the time you waited. Their token generosity shows up as a single fry, a sip, or a coupon code they won’t actually share. You feel nickeled to death over crumb-level costs. It’s not about money. It’s about mindset.
Watch patterns. Do they split dessert you didn’t eat? Do they tap out before tip and say they’ll “get you next time,” but never do? Set boundaries. Say you’ll only split evenly, including tax and tip. Suggest alternating who pays. If pushback continues, scale back invites accordingly.
Gossip, Triangulation, and Loyalty Tests
Even when they smile, pay attention to how your words travel. If your private joke shows up in another circle, you’re watching rumor dynamics in action. Cheap friends collect stories like coupons, then spend them for attention. They’ll pit you against someone else, quoting “what they said,” then run back and do the same. That’s triangulation, not honesty.
Notice the setups. They drop a spicy take about a friend and wait. Say nothing, and they push. Agree, and they screenshot. Those are trust experiments, rigged so you lose. Protect yourself. Share less. Move hard chats to text and keep receipts. Ask direct questions: “Did you tell them I said that?” Watch for squirming. Good friends clarify. Cheap friends dodge, deflect, and leak. Every time.
Boundary Pushing and Subtle Manipulation
Because cheap friends hate limits, they nudge yours inch by inch. They push small favors into late-night rescues. They “forget” money, rides, and time, then act shocked you noticed. Covert coercion shows up as sighs, silence, and the heavy “after all I’ve done” speech. Emotional grooming looks friendly: love-bombing, then cool distance until you chase. They say “only you get me” to box out others. Jokes at your expense? That’s a probe. So are “accidental” overlaps in plans, borrowed stuff that never returns, and secrets they “slip” to test fallout. They rewrite what happened, move goalposts, and make you feel rude for remembering facts. You’ll feel rushed, guilty, and oddly tired. That’s the tell. Cheap friendship runs on pressure, not care. Most days, unfortunately.
Setting Limits and Protecting Your Energy
Since chaos loves open doors, you need locks. Set simple limits and stick to them. Do Energy mapping each week: list what gives fuel and what drains you. Put people in the right column. Then do priority auditing. Ask, does this plan match my top three goals? If not, it’s a no. Use time caps: one hour for venting, ten minutes for texts, then you’re done. Say, “I can’t talk now. Try tomorrow.” Mute midnight messages. Leave group chats that spiral. Meet in public, drive yourself, and set an end time. Keep receipts of favors so you stop over-giving. When guilt knocks, remember boundaries protect both sides. You’re not rude. You’re responsible. Cheap friends hate limits. Real friends adjust. Your calendar is a gate.
Conclusion
You don’t need a coupon clipper for a friend. Call the pattern: only-texts-when-stuck, favor math, vanishing act. Say what you will and won’t do. No midnight rides, no “just this once.” Stop initiating for two weeks and watch who notices. Keep screenshots and dates so gaslighters can’t remix history. When they guilt you, repeat your boundary like a record and end the call. Spend your time with people who show up unasked, split fries, cheer.