Notes from Dad: She’s Not Your Friend, She’s a Prawn

Photo by Álvaro Serrano on Unsplash

Dear Daughter,

One day you’ll understand that some people enter your life for a season, some for a lesson, and some because they saw you carrying snacks and thought you looked emotionally available.

This brings me to the important life lesson I need you to hear: “She’s not your friend. She’s a prawn.”

Now before you accuse your dad of finally losing it, let me explain. A prawn looks good at first glance. Fancy even. Shows up pink, smiling, all charming at the barbecue. Everyone gathers around excited like, “Wow, look at this one.” But the second things get messy, complicated, or inconvenient? Suddenly there’s a weird smell, no substance, and someone’s left cleaning up a pile of shells.

That’s how fake friends work.

A real friend calls when you’re struggling. A prawn calls when there’s a party.

A real friend celebrates your wins. A prawn competes with you quietly while pretending to clap.

A real friend protects your name when you’re not in the room. A prawn leaks screenshots.

And listen carefully here, my love. People who only love you when you’re useful don’t actually love you. They love access. Convenience. Entertainment. Attention. The moment you stop serving those things, they drift away looking for another buffet table.

Don’t chase them.

You are not required to shrink yourself to keep shallow people comfortable.

The older I get, the more I realize life isn’t about having hundreds of people around you. It’s about finding the handful who show up when the lights are off, when the jokes stop, when things are hard.

Find the people who make your nervous system feel calm. Find the ones who clap the loudest when you succeed. Find the ones who tell you the truth kindly. Find the ones who stay.

And if someone keeps proving they’re a prawn, believe them early. Seafood rarely becomes steak.

Love, Dad