We were like war buddies.
Our office was going through a restructure and we formed an intense bond during our regular boozy, bitchy lunches.
We loved to get together and vent. To discuss in minute detail everything that was going on the office and talk about our grandiose plans for the future.
For about a year we were all inseparable, sticking our heads out from our cubicles to share a personal joke, finishing each other sentences, relentlessly taking the piss out of each other.
Twelve months down the line, we’ve all moved on to new jobs and I haven’t spoken to most of my war buddies in months.
Breaking up with a friend on The Well.
And that’s OK.
We were each other’s single-use friends. We were there for each other during a period of our lives when we shared the same enemy. We needed each other. We needed to vent. We took comfort in the fact that other people were going through the same thing as us.
But once the ‘war’ was over, we didn’t have much in common. We really didn’t fit into each other’s normal lives. There wasn’t that much to talk about once we didn’t have a common enemy, and the sting of our former employer’s actions had worn off.
Even most of our personal jokes don’t make sense anymore.
These were not my first fleeting friendships and they won’t be my last.
I always chuckle when I think about the funny nights out I had with a group of girls from uni, but we’d struggle to hold a conversation if I ran into any of them in the street.