Every friend group has that one member who’s always the planner. The one who, when you start casually talking about a girls’ trip over dinner, is already searching for flights before the topic changes. The one constantly dropping links into the group chat for a concert, afternoon tea, or pop-up bar, captioned, “Wouldn’t this be fun? We should totally go!”
I am that friend.
Maybe you are that friend, too. Or maybe you’re the one who gets to go along when those plans materialize, grateful that someone else is keeping an eye out for the crazy — or not so crazy — ideas.
But let me tell you a secret. Even with all my Zero F’s energy, I still get nervous when I throw one of those ideas out into the ether.
What if no one wants to go?
Or worse — what if no one even responds?
And believe me, both have happened. Many times. I used to take it personally, like it was a criticism of my ideas, or worse, of me.
Somewhere along the way, I realized I was doing a lot of emotional math on other people’s behalf. Assigning meaning to silence. Treating “no” like feedback. Assuming that if something didn’t happen, it was because I had misjudged the room — or myself.
By not even asking, I was making decisions for people that weren’t mine to make. And worse, I was holding myself back from opportunities to do things I actually wanted to do. From the big, audacious girls’ trips I kept to myself, to something as small as an invite to a pop-up shop at my favorite brewery. All because I was scared of the possibility of rejection.
That’s when I realized something important: Zero F’s energy doesn’t mean never feeling nervous. It means deciding that a little awkwardness is a fair price to pay for the chance to do something I actually want to do.
So I leaned in. I took the risk. I stopped worrying about how I’d feel if I didn’t get a yes. I stopped making my friends’ responses about me.
We’re all busy. We’re all overscheduled. Sometimes the plans I suggest are great — and the answer is still no. Not because they’re bad ideas, but because people already have plans. Or because they simply don’t want to go.
Asking gives me options. I might get to do the thing with them. Or I can pivot, invite someone else, or — gasp — do it on my own.
I have a very dear friend who is exceptionally good at setting boundaries. She knows exactly how much she can handle in a weekend, and she protects time to recharge because she understands what she needs.
I am basically the opposite. I want to do all the things, all the time.
And we can still be great friends and genuinely enjoy our time together, because I know that if I suggest plans when she already has other commitments, she’s allowed to say no. It has nothing to do with me — she just knows herself well. And I genuinely love that about her.
This doesn’t just apply to grand plans like a girls’ trip or a surprisingly complicated-to-organize happy hour. Sometimes I catch myself hesitating before asking a friend to FaceTime, worrying that I’m asking too much.
Which is wild, when you really think about it. Asking to spend time with someone you care about isn’t indulgent. It’s the whole point.
We’re all busy and going in a hundred directions at once. I’m happy to be the one who asks to make plans. I’ll risk a little vulnerability — and maybe a bruised ego — for the chance to connect with people I care about and do the things I want to do.
Instead of worrying, “What if they say no?” I wonder, “What if no one ever asked?”
As I was writing this piece, my 10-year-old daughter asked if a friend could sleep over that night. I’ll admit, my first reaction was mild annoyance — can’t we please plan these things a little more in advance? But the girls didn’t have school the next day, and adding one more seat at the dinner table really wasn’t a big deal. So I said yes.
Once that initial annoyance passed, something else clicked. It probably never occurred to my daughter not to ask. She knew there was a chance I’d say no, and she asked anyway.
I hope she never loses that. Because the worst thing would be growing up and forgetting that asking is always worth it.
Powerful writing and beautiful parenting at the end, your daughter is lucky to have you 🫶
Thanks for posting this Amanda! Such a great reflection and reminder for us. 💜