Hunk Unc

Hunk Unc: How do I know my friendships are good and healthy?

Most people don’t realise a friendship’s off because something bad happens. They realise because something small keeps happening. You catch the bus home and feel oddly flat. You lie in bed replaying a conversation. You feel more tired after hanging out than you did before—that’s usually the first sign. Good friendships don’t leave you feeling like you’ve just done a full-body session you didn’t consent to.

I had a mate I used to train with three mornings a week at CityFitness. Same time, same rack. On paper, perfect. But every session turned into him unloading—his flat, his ex, his job, how nothing ever quite worked out for him. I’d nod between sets, spot him, hype him up, then walk out feeling absolutely cooked. Not physically—emotionally. Took me months to realise I was never actually sharing anything myself. I was just there to spot him while he talked. 

A healthy friendship lets you be a bit useless sometimes. Not charmingly useless—actually flat. Quiet. Low-energy. If you always feel like you have to be “on,” that’s a warning sign.

Some of my best friendships are the ones where we can sit on opposite ends of the couch, scrolling our phones, half-watching whatever’s on, eating toast straight off the bench because no one could be bothered finding plates. 

Pay attention to what happens when you say no. Not the dramatic nos—the boring ones. “Can’t afford it this week.” “Not drinking tonight.” “Need an early one.” A good mate might give you a bit of grief, but they’ll drop it. They won’t guilt you. They won’t keep a mental tally. Anyone who only likes you when you’re available, agreeable, and useful isn’t your friend—they just like the version of you that fits their schedule.

Friendships should also survive change, because you will change. You’ll start caring about sleep. You’ll stop going out three nights in a row. You’ll get into running, or lifting properly, or therapy, or all three. Some people won’t like that. They’ll say you’re “different now”. The good ones adjust. They ask questions. They find new ways to hang out. They don’t try to drag you back to who you were just because it was more convenient for them.

I lost touch with a few mates when I stopped hitting the pub five nights a week. It hurt more than I expected. But the ones who stayed? They’re still here. They ask how my knee’s holding up. They ask what I’m training for. They show up, even when it’s boring or uncomfortable. Moving flats. Hospital waiting rooms. 

Here’s the bit people hate admitting: you don’t actually need that many close friends. Two or three proper ones will carry you further than a massive group chat where your message gets seen-zoned and forgotten. “Quality over quantity” sounds like a fridge magnet, sure—but in real life, it’s how you maintain the best friendships. 

So how do you know your friendships are good and healthy? When they’ve got your back. When they’re willing to give you a spot and listen to your problems, not just spill theirs.