I swear, for the longest time, I thought I was the problem. I’d be talking to him—my friend Jake—and he’d be buzzing, jumping from one amazing idea to the next. One week it was opening a food truck, the next it was learning to fly a drone, then suddenly he was going to hike the entire Appalachian Trail. The energy was electric, seriously addictive, but the follow-through? Forget about it. I tried to keep up. I really did. I’d buy the supplies for the new hobby, clear my schedule for the grand trip, and then… crickets. The excitement would just vanish, leaving me holding the bag, usually literally. I got so burned out just trying to nail him down for a simple dinner reservation that I almost gave up.
It felt like I was trying to hold water in my hands. Every conversation was either a five-alarm fire of excitement or a total, unexplained ghosting. I spent months just reacting to his spur-of-the-moment plans. I was constantly checking my phone, worried I’d miss the next big announcement, or worse, worried I’d miss the next time he decided to actually show up for something we planned. I was emotionally drained, always waiting for the inevitable pivot to something entirely new and chaotic. My own life schedule was getting wrecked by his constant, high-speed turbulence.
Hitting the Wall and Changing the Strategy
The breaking point came when we tried to organize a charity event together. We had been talking about it for ages, and this time, he was all in. I spent three solid weeks calling venues, begging for discounts, and coordinating volunteers. Jake? He showed up to exactly one initial meeting, gave this incredible, hyped-up speech about the vision that had everyone ready to run through a wall, promised he’d handle the marketing and the social media blitz, and then disappeared for ten days. Totally unreachable. I was furious.
When I finally tracked him down, ready to explode, he was genuinely shocked I was mad. He was already deep into teaching himself JavaScript and building a minimal-impact composting system in his backyard. That’s when it absolutely smacked me across the face: I couldn’t treat his energy like a stable, bankable promise; I had to treat it like weather. It was going to shift, suddenly and dramatically, and I needed to stop relying on his forecast. I had to build my own predictable schedule, my own reliable structure, and let him be the spontaneous, beautiful thunderstorm on the horizon.
So, I stopped demanding reliability. I started implementing rules for myself. I literally kept a little notepad where I recorded what approaches actually calmed my nervous system down and what made me lose my mind trying to chase him. Here is the stuff that actually got me some peace and salvaged our friendship:
- You gotta Keep It Short and Sweet. If I absolutely need his input on something important, I learned to frame the ask in under sixty seconds. Long, detailed discussions are a waste of breath. His attention span bolts before I finish my second point, and then he’s just nodding while thinking about something else. If it takes more than 15 minutes, he needs to be doing something physical while we talk, like walking or assembling furniture.
- Let Him Lead the Hype Train, But You Drive the Car. He is truly awesome for starting things. Need momentum? Give him the microphone and let him fire everyone up. Need something finished? Take the task back before the novelty wears off. I started explicitly thanking him for the kick-off and immediately telling him, “I appreciate the energy, I’ll handle the follow-through and the small details.” Zero emotional reliance on him closing the loop.
- Build in the Buffer Zone and Plan Backup. If he promises to be somewhere at 7 PM, I mentally mark it as 7:30 PM. Maybe 8 PM. If he shows up on time, it feels like a glorious bonus, a gift from the universe. If he doesn’t, I already expected it, and I planned something else to do in the meantime. I take a book, I bring my laptop to catch up on emails. That way, his instability doesn’t derail my whole evening or my emotional state.
- Give Him Tiny, Urgent Assignments Only. Don’t give him the big, vague project that stretches out for weeks. That’s death. Give him something with a hard deadline of tomorrow. He thrives on that immediate pressure and the adrenaline rush of the chase. “Can you find a good taco recipe by 6 PM tonight?” works way better than “Can you plan dinner sometime this week?”
- Learn to Say “That Sounds Great, But I’m Not In.” This was the hardest one to practice because his enthusiasm is really infectious. The minute he launches into a huge, exciting, impossible plan—like learning to speak Swedish or booking a one-way ticket to a remote island—I practice smiling and nodding and just saying I appreciate the invite but I’m going to stay put this time. This crucial boundary stopped me from getting dragged into ten failed side hustles and saved my bank account.
It’s not perfect, obviously. He still pulls stunts. Last month, he told me he was moving to Bali permanently, sold his sofa on Facebook Marketplace, and then decided five days later he just needed a new coffee machine instead. That’s just who he is, and I have accepted it. Now, when he pitches the next great adventure, I smile, I listen to the rush of adrenaline in his voice, and I internally think, “That’s lovely, Jake. Text me when you get back.” I focus totally on managing my own expectations and my own schedule. I stopped expecting stability from a moving target, and honestly, that one mental shift completely saved our friendship. It’s exhausting, sure, but now I know where to put my energy, and it’s not trying to lasso a comet.
