Fucking punch back. One of two things happen. One, they acquiesce and y'all become even better friends, albeit ones who can still rip on each other. Two, they double down, and you realize (unfortunately) that you fucked up because they were never your friends. Which leaves you with fewer friends, sure, but thinking how much life you have left and focus that on surrounding yourself with the right people.

Worried you'll spend a lot of time alone? Face that shit head on and based on your personality (introvert, extrovert), find creative ways to meet new people. Or actually face it and realize that being alone for periods of time is a hallmark of human existence; it doesn't make you special, weak - it makes you boringly "normal."

Good luck OP.

Bro, your AMA has been delightful to read. I'm a humanist/agnostic atheist who grew up in the Lutheran church. I have a lot of respect for religions from an academic standpoint, but came to believe that faith is not a construct that fits with my beliefs. That said, and I made this point to someone in a totally separate thread, the tenets of say, Christianity, aren't bad and are a decent model to follow, so far as to be a good person whether faith is part of the personal belief system, or not.

I'm not a believer in Pascal's Wager; however, I've known and encountered so many unsavory Christians (not to mention other faiths' adherents) who would wilfully smile and gladhand come Sunday but never lift a finger for anyone but themself and their own. Many repugnant people, whose faith in salvation is effectively moral hazard, in the same way as an insurance policy may correlate with increased risk-taking. All this said, I'd rather aspire to be a good, decent person - of no faith.

Merry Christmas & happy holidays to you and yours.

I told the joke above at my buddy's 50th bday party-slash-roast. His burly 100% Irish-American dad who can trace his family to a tiny Hamlet in the Irish country was not amused. Burly as in, motherfucker worked in Northeastern steel mills, was built like an ox, nearly ripped my arm out of its socket when he shook my hand first time I'd met him. And yet he charmed people with his ever present "what's new in your bailiwick?" RIP JIM, an imperfect man but unforgettable.

How many potatoes does it take to kill an Irishman? Zero