Drafted August 18, 2026.
Revised September 29, 2026 and October 28-30, 2026

One of the things that has been fascinating about coming out and dating women is navigating how much friendship is also a different ball of wax in the sapphic world compared to the straight world. Lesbians are famously often friendly with their exes and can remain deeply connected to them. This is both daunting and alien for a lot of women exiting the world of heternormative dating norms. I have found it particularly strange territory to navigate, because almost every male ex I’ve had I immediately cut off all contact with in the aftermath of the breakup.

While I have not yet dated anyone long enough in this current stage of my queer journey to have what I would truly call an ex (can someone be an ex if they were never officially a girlfriend?), I have dated a handful of women long enough that either they, or I, broke things off with the “hey, I don’t think we should keep dating, but I would like to remain friends” text. So far, remaining friends has only seemed to work out well exactly once: possibly because she told me right after I texted her that she had been thinking of sending me a similar text, it was also early enough before either of us had caught feelings, and we both share enough common interests that seeing each other again seemed like an actually possible and reasonable thing to do. I was so anxious about breaking things off with her because we really connected in some meaningful ways, and it was such a blessed relief to find out the feeling was mutual. Perhaps it’s possible to remain friends following one-sided endings, but I suspect that the transition to friendship is far easier with mutual endings.

Something that I think makes these conversations fraught is that American society doesn’t really have a sophisticated lexicon of friendship to make “I’d still like to be friends” come across as anything but a consolation prize in a dating context when someone is breaking things off, and the other person is already picturing a potential future with them. For those of us who take friendship seriously, friendship is anything but a consolation prize.

My sense is that “I’d still like to be friends” should often be interpreted as “I’d still like to be friendly” since the sapphic world is small and everyone is like three degrees (or less!) removed from each other. What I wish took place more often in these conversations is some kind of specificity around what level of friendship is on the table moving forward. Catching up once in a while over a beer? Being invited to someone’s birthday party? Joining you for a concert because you both like the same band? But it’s hard to have this conversation in the aftermath of receiving unwelcome news.

Whenever I’ve talked to more experienced lesbians about my frustrations around this (I have gone so far as to ask about the “lesbian art of staying friends with your exes,” since I sometimes wonder if my confusion around this stems from my heteronormative programming), a lot of them specify that they themselves are not friends with all of their exes, and that the healthiest friendships they have with exes are typically ones in which there was a cooling off period or both people moved on to other relationships on similar timetables.

In my world, friendships are still an important relationship that deserve as much care and attention as romantic relationships (I take friendship so seriously I converted to a religion that centers friendship!). And yet when people break off early dating and suggest being friends instead, I’m not always convinced that they treat friendship with the same gravitas that I do. I have since learned that when things end, I should only offer exactly whatever it is that I am capable of. Regardless of whether I am delivering or receiving the “I don’t think we should date any longer” message, if I cannot offer meaningful friendship, I wish them well and thank them for the pleasure of their company and say whatever else I need to say to close things out.

Here is the thing I have also learned about dating: You are not obligated to date anyone and are free to break it off at any point, but in turn they also don’t owe you friendship. Once you decide to end things with someone, you have to acknowledge and accept that you cannot control how the other person is going to process the news. Sometimes I think that a false promise of friendship can be an extension of trying to control the outcome of a disappointing situation. Breaking things off with an otherwise pleasant person makes you feel like a real jerk, being on the receiving end can make you feel like a real loser, and a superficial proposal of friendship can be an escape hatch to avoid processing some hard feelings on both sides.

One of the things about actively dating is that it’s a hell of an education in rejection therapy. Let’s face it, the most likely outcome of most people you ask out will be some kind of rejection. Often, you probably won’t even get a polite rejection but a conversation that dries up the second you suggest meeting up. Sadly this is not just on the apps - I’ve slid into the DMs of an acquaintance who I thought was blatantly flirting with me IRL to ask them out and got left on read (awkward!). And the most likely outcome of a first date is that it ends there, and there is no second date.

Sometimes people tell me they think it’s so brave that I jumped into dating with both feet shortly after coming out. When I hear something like this, most of the time I kind of internally roll my eyes because I don’t think there’s anything particularly courageous about getting a beer with someone and hoping you can work up the nerve to make the first move (I’m still working on this, I’m better than I was six months ago but still nowhere near as smooth as I’d like). But the more I think about it, I wonder if the people who say this admire the willingness to put up with so much rejection and keep getting back in the saddle.

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