The Dark Side of Female Friendships: Wolfsbane vs. Monets
I approached adulthood with an overgrown innocence that made life both whimsical and dangerous.
I’ve always loved people. There’s nothing that waters my garden more than human connection. To build bridges, to let people in, and to be let in. I believed people. I trusted their words. I wholeheartedly felt that everyone I encountered was good and wanted to spread goodness.
Until I was scorned. Until I no longer saw new people as exciting opportunities to grow, but as warning signs. Until I lost confidence not only in the human race, but in my own ability to judge and assess situations. Do you know how terrifying, how debilitating it is to lose confidence in that? It was a loss of independence. I no longer felt safe, or able to keep myself safe. I clung to those who withstood the test of time and shut everyone else out.
Why?
Because I encountered both wolfsbane and Monets.
Wolfsbane
Wolfsbane, also known as Aconitum or monkshood, is a beautiful flower cloaked in layers of fatal toxicity. Historically used in witchcraft and ancient poisons, its roots, stems, and blossoms all contain potent toxins. In 2010, a woman named Lakhvir Singh used wolfsbane to poison her ex-lover’s curry; he died within the hour. That’s what these friendships are like: beautiful, generous, and intoxicating, until you realize they’ve been poisoning you slowly, or worse, plotting to destroy you from the start.
Wolfsbane friendships are abrupt and fast-paced. They seem to appear out of nowhere and suddenly infiltrate your entire life.
They’re so beautiful it’s enchanting. They seem kind and earnest. They see and vocalize the best parts of you. You feel uplifted. They’re always there for you. So you open up. You tell them everything. And they love that. The more you let them in, the more affection and love they show.
Until suddenly, they strike.
Their poison spreads fast and wide through your life. And you blame yourself. You let a stranger in too quickly. But also, how could you have known? They seemed so genuine. They also let you in. That’s the trap. They show you their vulnerabilities, and you feel obligated to show them yours. But they feed on your wounds.
There is no warning. No slow decline. Just a grand, calculated betrayal. They have been planning it all along. They thrive in the moment of the reveal. You are blindsided, hurt, and confused all at once.
They don’t regret what they’ve done. They justify it. They believe they deserve what you have, and that you never did.
Signs someone is a Wolfsbane:
You feel an ominous discomfort being alone with them.
They have a history of friendship breakups and enemies.
They’re kinder when you’re down, and dimmer when you shine.
They point out the negative in your happiest moments.
They slowly copy and claim your identity.
They’re upset if you don’t tell them things first.
They are insecure and allergic to your confidence. Their symptoms are hateful comments, sour moods, and frowns.
Monets
Monets are people who look good from afar, but the closer you get to them, the uglier they become. Not physically, of course. People’s appearances literally change in my eyes based on how I feel about them. Everyone I love is beautiful.
Monets are people you enjoy being around. They make you happy. The conversations are light, funny, and refreshing. They seem like exactly the kind of people you want around. But the closer you get, the more the surface cracks. The conversations grow deeper. You start to see more of them. And the more you see, the uglier it gets.
They have an instability about them. It’s funny until it’s serious. They can be delightful, but in a blink, you can see their destruction. These are the people who, when you’re on their good side, life is good. But the moment you cross to their bad side, it’s game over.
Don’t think it can’t be you. It can. And often, it will be.
Usually, this process is slow. You start to see signs. There is time to retract. You can categorize them as Monets and keep your distance. From afar, they’re safe.
Signs someone is a Monet:
They don’t have many close friends.
They are overly eager to spend time with you.
They have explosive reactions to things, good or bad.
They jump to conclusions quickly.
They’re judgmental, and it’s funny until it’s not.
They’re easily offended in irrational ways, and you find yourself treading lightly.
They ask too many personal questions too soon.
My Experience With a Wolfsbane
She was a friend from work. I initially felt lucky to meet her. It was my first job and my first time walking into a space alone. I had always been surrounded by childhood friends, even in university. But entering the workforce, I chose a company where I knew no one.
She found me instantly. Took me under her wing. Let me into every crevice of her life. I felt so fortunate.
She shared food, stories, even her children. She gave me the backstory on everyone at work. She warned me about the people she’d learned about the hard way. She was in my home before anyone else, met my friends, met my family.
I felt loved and supported until my whole life crumbled. And it was all her doing.
Conflicts began popping up with girls at work. Accusations, drama, fights I had nothing to do with. I was confused, always asking myself what does this have to do with me?
She’d assure me they were jealous. She’d comfort me and explain how they’d done the same to her. She fed me lies until I was full of them.
Still, I kept my head down. These people weren’t really my friends. I did my job and left. It sucked being isolated, but I managed.
Until my work started to suffer.
My boss, who was part of the same friendship circle as the wolfsbane, started punishing me professionally. I lost long-term projects. I was removed from site visits. I was frozen out. Scrutinized. Given busywork and denied basic access.
I confronted my boss.
That’s when the curtain lifted. The source of it all was her.
She talked behind my back. Painted me as a villain. Convincingly. She used screenshots out of context. Spread rumors about me, my family, and my friends. She expressed confusion about why others liked me. In her eyes, I wasn’t even average. I was ugly.
She made me out to be her. Evil. Calculated.
And she was smart. That’s the worst part. She knew how to lace truth with lies. She knew how to weaponize vulnerability. She used things I told her in confidence and shared them widely.
When the truth came out and the puzzle pieces were finally laid bare, I wept. I felt violated. Betrayed.
How could someone I loved do this to me?
How could she sit across from me, sharing meals, while feasting on me the whole time? The blood still dripping from her mouth.
The Aftermath
I never confronted her. There was no need. She was dead to me.
When you love someone, you tell them how you feel because it matters. You want to clear any negativity, be honest, so you don’t carry resentment.
But with her, I never wanted to see or speak to her again. I cut her off cold turkey and moved on. Quietly. Successfully.
But traces of her still live within me.
Mostly in the anxiety that followed. The fear of people. The realization that someone so unassuming could be so dark. I lost confidence in my ability to judge character. Others had sensed something off about her. They told me so. But I had felt sorry for her. I defended her. I told others she was misunderstood. She even acknowledged the bad first impressions she often leaves, she said it was because of her “resting bitch face”.
But it wasn’t. It was her rotting insides. They reeked.
Healing
It’s been years. But I still drift to that dark place when I hear stories of betrayal. I still mourn that carefree version of me that she murdered. I still try to make sense of it all.
Thankfully, I’ve rebuilt my confidence in people. I am guarded, yes, but I no longer see that as a weakness.
She was a lesson. A hard one. She taught me not to hand over blind faith. She taught me to protect myself. And most of all, she taught me to never let someone like her ruin my chance to meet the good ones.
Because if anything, I still believe in the power of female friendships.
My female friends have saved my life, time and time again. They have brought me joy, clarity, and healing in ways no one else could.
But you must be warned.
The dark side of female friendships is real.
Especially the Monets and the wolfsbane.
