We’ve all stood on both sides of the fence, though we rarely admit it out loud. In the quiet dynamics of friends, family, and relatives, there exists a messy, unspoken grey area governed by the art of giving and receiving.

When I was younger, I viewed these exchanges through a simple, transactional lens—a sort of “tit-for-tat” harmony between people who cared for one another. But adulthood has a way of stripping back the layers. As I grew older, I began to see the underlying machinery at play: the uncle who views his family as a recurring safety net, or the friend who arrives with gifts not out of affection, but to grease the wheels for a future request.

The uncomfortable truth is that “free” often carries a hidden receipt. Most givers, even the well-intentioned ones, carry an expectation of reciprocity. It isn’t always about money; sometimes it’s about a debt of loyalty or an unspoken understanding that you are now “on the hook.”

On the flip side, there is a specific type of social hunter: the professional dependent. These are the people who scan their circles for the most “well-positioned” individual to solve their personal crises. You’ll hear it in their voice—“My brother is doing well, he’ll definitely deliver.” It is a warped sentiment. Hinging your personal obligations on someone else’s hard work is one of the laziest thing an adult can do. A friend’s success is not an invitation to turn them into a cash cow.

I often wonder if these “hunters” realize how exhausting they become. I have been on that side of the fence—the one calling only to be met with a flat, “busy” tone or the sting of being ghosted. It is demeaning, but it is also a mirror. If someone genuinely wants to help you, they won’t make you feel small—provided you aren’t constantly playing the “damsel in distress” card. After a while, the pity wears thin, and you become a one-trick pony. For the one asking, every snubbed call is a hit to your self-worth. It leaves you feeling squirmish because deep down, you know you’ve overstayed your welcome in their pocketbook.

We are told “Ask and it shall be given,” but that is a promise for a spiritual pillar, not for men. If you keep asking humans, you eventually become a thorn. There is no shame in a season of lack, but there is shame in losing your self-respect. A gift given with a cynical remark or a demeaning lecture is like a package covered in filth—the “stink” of the transaction stays on you long after the money is gone.

Then there is the age-old saying: “Givers never lack.” In reality, givers lack all the time. Everyone has a “red zone”—a point where they are financially or emotionally tapped out. When someone says they “don’t have it,” don’t turn into a financial detective, judging their spending to justify your ask. The worst lack, however, is a lack of common sense. Giving until you are penniless isn’t noble; it’s senseless. You will quickly find that those you helped will be the first to ridicule you when you finally run dry.

These are just my random thoughts, but the lesson remains: don’t rely on anyone to be your ultimate safety net. We are all flawed and easily exhausted. Build your own pillar—mine is Christ—and ensure your foundation is sturdier than the fleeting patience of a relative.