Beware the Fickle Theatre Friend

by Chris Peterson

If you spend enough time in theatre, especially community or college theatre, you’ll eventually meet them. The fickle theatre friends. They’re everywhere. They’re the ones who are your best friends for the run of the show, the ones who promise lifelong loyalty during tech week, and the ones who somehow vanish the moment the curtain falls.

And if you’re not careful, you’ll mistake that connection for something deeper than it is.

Because here’s the thing. Theatre creates instant intimacy. You spend weeks together rehearsing, sharing emotions, and relying on each other. You cry together, you celebrate together, and you go out for drinks after rehearsal like you’ve known each other for years. It feels like family. But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it’s just the illusion of closeness that comes from shared creative adrenaline.

And when the show closes, the adrenaline fades. Suddenly that friend who texted you every day doesn’t reply. The group chat stops buzzing. You realize you only ever talked about the show, not about life. It’s not betrayal. It’s just the nature of the environment. But it can still sting.

I’ve been burnt by these kinds of people before. The ones who made big promises and big declarations of friendship in the middle of a show, only to disappear once they didn’t need the connection anymore. It’s a strange kind of heartbreak. It feels silly to admit, but it leaves a mark. You learn quickly who’s there for you and who was just there for the moment.

That’s why it’s so important to know the difference between theatre friendship and real friendship. One exists within the show. The other exists beyond it. Real friends are the ones who check in when you don’t have a role. They’re the ones who celebrate your success without comparing it to theirs. They’re the ones who root for you even when you’re cast in the part they wanted.

Theatre friends, on the other hand, sometimes live in a kind of conditional loyalty. If you’re in the same show, if you’re useful, if you’re visible, you’re in. When you’re not, the connection flickers out. It’s not always malicious. Sometimes they just need the next show to fill that social space. But it’s still fleeting.

So here’s what I’ve learned. Don’t let the energy of a show convince you you’ve found your people until you’ve tested the friendship outside of it. Go get coffee after closing weekend. See who still shows up. Those are the ones you keep.

And if you’ve been burned like I have, don’t close yourself off completely. Theatre attracts passionate people, and passion burns fast. Some friendships are meant to be short-lived. But the ones that last are gold. They’re rare, honest, and usually built in the quiet moments between shows, not during them.

So love your theatre friends, but protect your heart a little. You’ll meet dozens of people who feel like family under the lights, and maybe only a few who will still be around when they go dark.