My son doesn't have a best friend and it breaks my heart

"I'll ask who he played with at lunch, and the answer is always no one."

A Melbourne mum has shared with Kidspot her fears for her son's loneliness.

Growing up, I always had a best friend.

We met when I was four and she was five. My family moved into a house across the road from hers, and soon we became inseparable.

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"Things are different now"

My bestie and I shared everything and were practically like sisters growing up. All the big milestones. All the magic of childhood and the challenges of puberty. 

When I started to notice boys, she was the one I consulted about my crushes, and vice versa. 

When I had questions about my body changing during puberty (she was older than me), we commiserated together and shopped for bras, hand in hand.

She was the one I told when I lost my virginity. I was the one she confided in when her parents separated.

I knew that I could always count on her to have my back no matter what, and there was tremendous comfort in that.

Wind forwards the clock a few decades, and now I have kids of my own.

Image: iStock

"He doesn't have one true bestie"

My five-year-old daughter is like me, and has a BFF whom she absolutely adores. But my nine-year-old son is different.

He has friends, for sure, but he doesn't seem to have that one true bestie. Someone who always picks him first. Someone who backs him no matter what. 

My son is probably more introverted than extraverted, but I wouldn’t call him shy. He’s well liked at school I think, but he just doesn’t seem to have a best friend.

Sometimes, I’ll ask him who he played with that day, and the answer leaves me feeling heavy-hearted.

“I played by myself,” he’ll say. Other times, different names will come up. 

Often, he seems to miss out on party invitations, or will be invited at the last minute.

"He's not aware, but I am"

To be honest, he doesn’t really seem sad about any of this, because maybe he’s not aware of what he’s missing out on.

But I am. And it breaks my heart.

I mourn so many things for him. That deep connection, where you intuitively know another person so well, you can guess what an eye-roll might mean, or can answer a pop quiz about your bestie’s likes and dislikes at the drop of a hat.

I mourn the laughter I had with my best friend and that feeling of when you ‘click’ with someone completely. When they just get your sense of humour and you get theirs.

Most of all, I mourn the shared memories he’s missing out on, those foundational ones that my best friend and I reflect on now that we’re older.

Maybe I’m overthinking it and it’s totally fine to have lots of fleeting friendships along this journey through life.

Perhaps I’ve been conditioned to think that having a single lifelong bestie is the way it’s supposed to go – after all, we see it enough in movies and in books.

And maybe, just maybe, his one true buddy will reveal themselves in high school or later in life. 

I really do hope so.

Originally published as My son doesn't have a best friend and it breaks my heart