Dear Queenie,
I need advice before I lose both my patience and a long-standing friendship.
A good friend of mine came to “visit” us in St. Maarten. The word visit is doing a lot of work here because she never gave a departure date. It’s now been weeks.
She insists she is “no bother.” She says she barely takes up space. But space is not just physical. My spouse works from home, and our routines have completely shifted. The house no longer feels like ours. There is always someone there.
She doesn’t offer to contribute to groceries, utilities, or household expenses. When we gently hint, she says she doesn’t eat much or use much, so she doesn’t see the need. She also chose not to rent a car because she says it’s too expensive, yet she frequently asks to use ours to go to the beach. She will put in a little gas, but returns it sandy, cluttered, and casually apologetic.
Here’s the complicated part: she is clearly lonely. Recently divorced. Emotionally fragile. She speaks as though she still lives a high-end lifestyle, but the reality doesn’t match. It feels like she is escaping something back home. I feel sympathy. But I also feel used.
My family is feeling the strain. My spouse is irritated. I am caught between compassion and resentment.
How do I set boundaries without kicking someone who is already down? And how do I do it before this damages our friendship permanently? —Friendship Fatigued
Dear Friendship Fatigued,
Hospitality has a rhythm. A visit has a beginning, a middle, and an end. When that end is undefined, tension begins to build — even between good friends.
A respectful house guest clarifies how long they are staying, offers to contribute in meaningful ways, and remains mindful that they are stepping into someone else’s routines. When a guest uses your car, contributes minimally to gas, doesn’t help with groceries or utilities, and adapts to the home as if it were permanent, the dynamic quietly shifts from “welcome guest” to “uninvited extension.”
Your compassion for her loneliness is admirable. But compassion without boundaries becomes resentment. And resentment, left unspoken, destroys friendships far faster than an honest conversation ever could.
You need clarity and a plan.
To set a departure date, say: “We’ve loved having you, but we need to talk about your plans. What date are you planning to leave?” If she deflects: “I need us to agree on a date. This open-ended arrangement isn’t working for our family.”
Regarding contributions: “Since you’ve been here longer than expected, we need to start sharing costs, groceries, utilities, and fuel. Let’s work out what feels fair.”
On the car: “We’re not able to share the car regularly anymore. You’ll need to make other arrangements for getting around.”
You do not need to justify these statements with long explanations. Calm. Direct. Kind.
It is possible your friend is escaping something. It is also possible she has grown comfortable in a space that is not hers. Either way, your home must remain a place where your family feels at ease.
You are not kicking someone while they are down. You are closing a door gently before it has to be slammed. A true friendship can survive clarity.—Queenie
