Friendship or Competition: What Defines Our Relationships?
Friendship or Competition: What Defines Our Relationships? (Hint: It’s Not Teh Tarik) #
Let’s cut the wayang kulit, Malaysia. That warm mamak table laughter? Half of it’s fake. Those “geng-geng forever” WhatsApp groups? Digital battlegrounds. That effusive “Wah! Congrats!” when your friend lands a promotion? Tastes suspiciously like sour grapes wrapped in roti canai. Wake up, folks! We haven’t got friends; we’ve got frenemies on steroids, and our relationships are less about muhibbah and more about a never-ending, soul-sucking silent competition disguised as camaraderie. We’re not building bonds; we’re running a bloody rat race in matching baju kurung.
It starts young. Little Emma’s A+ in Maths isn’t celebrated; it’s a dagger in Auntie Zahra’s heart because her Adam only got an A-. Cousin Wan’s scholarship to the UK isn’t inspiration; it’s ammunition for his uncle to berate his son for “only” getting into UM. We don’t raise children; we raise gladiators in school uniforms, pitted against each other before they can tie their own shoes. The tuition centre isn’t a classroom; it’s the Colosseum. “Friendly” becomes code for “I’m watching you, and you’d better not outshine my kid.”
Fast forward to adulthood. That teh tarik session? Don’t be fooled by the steam. It’s a stealth Olympics. Every casual sembang is a covert intelligence operation. “Where you working now ah?” translates to “Are you earning more than me?” “Bought new car ka?” really means “Can I afford to look down on your choice?” “Planning holiday where?” is just recon for “Can I post a better location next month?” Promotions, property purchases, pregnancy announcements – they’re not life updates; they’re points on a invisible scoreboard meticulously tracked by every “friend” at the table. The gleam in their eyes when you share good news? That’s not joy. That’s the frantic mental calculation of how far behind they’ve just fallen.
Social media? The ultimate frenemy fabrication factory. Your “friend’s” lavish Bali getaway #blessed post isn’t wanderlust; it’s a targeted missile aimed at your contentment. That humblebrag about their “side hustle success”? Pure psychological warfare. We don’t scroll feeds; we conduct damage assessments on our own perceived inadequacy, fueled by the meticulously curated highlight reels of people we supposedly care about. The “like” button is a weapon of mass delusion – a tiny digital thumbs-up masking oceans of envy and simmering resentment. We celebrate each other’s wins like hostages forced to applaud their captor.
And God forbid you stumble. Lose your job? Watch the “supportive” messages dry up faster than kuih in the sun. Go through a breakup? Hear the whispers disguised as concern: “Dia punya pasal lah, selalu tunjuk glamour” (“It’s their fault, always showing off”). Struggle financially? Prepare for the subtle distancing, the invitations that mysteriously stop coming. Vulnerability isn’t met with empathy; it’s seized as proof of weakness by competitors masquerading as comrades. Your fall is their chance to surge ahead on the invisible ranking. Schadenfreude isn’t a German import; it’s Malaysia’s unofficial national sport played in living rooms and group chats nationwide.
Why this toxic masquerade? Blame the kiasu legacy on crack. We’re terrified of being “less than.” We’ve confused scarcity with reality, believing there’s only one trophy, one promotion, one “best life” slot available. If you win, I lose. Simple. Brutal. Soul-destroying. Add a generous dose of performative *budi bahasa* – the cultural pressure to look harmonious while internally seething – and you’ve got the perfect recipe for relationships built on sand and spite.
The cost? Profound loneliness in a crowd. Surrounded by “friends,” yet utterly isolated because you can’t trust a single smile. Paralyzing anxiety that your real struggles will be weaponized. A complete erosion of genuine joy – because even your own victories feel hollow when you know they’re met with secret envy, not authentic celebration. We’ve sacrificed connection on the altar of comparison.
Enough! Tear down the scoreboard. Stop treating your cousin’s promotion like a personal insult. Quit mentally pricing your friend’s handbag. Mute the frenemy’s feed if it makes you feel like garbage. True friendship isn’t a zero-sum game. It thrives on genuine support, vulnerability without fear, and celebrating each other’s light without dimming your own. It’s saying, “I’m happy for you,” and meaning it. It’s showing up when they’re down, not just when they’re up.
Find your real tribe – the ones who cheer your wins without tallying points, who offer a shoulder without judgment, who know your struggles and don’t use them as ammunition. Ditch the frenemies. Life’s too short for relationships that feel like a never-ending SPM exam where everyone’s cheating. That teh tarik? It tastes better without the bitter aftertaste of competition. Choose connection, not combat. Your sanity will thank you.