CK and I have always had fun together, and despite our insistence for many months that we are not friends, we’ve really become close since we bonded at my birthday party. And to be honest, looking back on over a year in the city, and it has always been CK, listening to be talk when I was cry over a boy last August, toasting to the Transit Strike in December, letting me cry over ANOTHER boy in March, bonding with me on my birthday,  and finally this summer, taking me out and toasting. And that is not to mention all the monologues, political babble, and just plain hilarity.

I was exhausted last night from lack of sleep and my ear hurting, but I wanted to rally. I told CK about how I totally got the guy who put the “black hole of despair” thing in the suggestion box, about how I was honest in my interview, and my boss’s reaction to my World’s Worst Receptionist” t-shirt (that I wore all afternoon). “I underestimated you,” CK admitted. “I thought you’d go out with a whimper, but you went out with a bang. I’m really proud of you.” (Bonus for use of TS Eliot)

It’s funny because at work he always tells me to go away, and I always insult him and so for some reason, nice things from him mean more. Also, I like that he now knows me well enough that he can laugh at me and point out that I’m doing “that Rachel thing where you try to impress me.” I mean, he was totally right, but I can call him out on similar things.

At the end of dinner, he raised his vodka and said “To the best drinking buddy I know, the best friend I have in the city, the most brilliant receptionist ever, and if you start crying I will punch you in the face.” So instead I laughed and we clinked glasses and I said “Screw it, I don’t want to go home. Let’s find an Irish pub and get a beer.”

So we went to The Irish Pub across from my office, and it was my turn to tell him how I think he’s way too fucking smart for his job, and he is awesome and he needs to go do something other than giving into this existential bullshit, because it’s true. “I’ll have my MA in a year, and I might be back in the city. If you’re still at the same job I will kick your fucking ass.”

Sometimes, when CK talks, it drives me crazy because I know I’ve heard the same sentence come out of my own mouth. Sure, I’m more emotional and he’s more cynical (because he’s older, hehe) and yeah, he pisses me off when he calls me out of my self-affirmation bullshit, but we are very, very similar. I have never met someone with views (not just political) are so aligned to mine. We have nearly identical outlooks on life. I mentioned this and he smiled “It’s a Jersey thing.”

We talked about rock bottom, and plans, and relationships, and burning bridges. “That’s kind of what you’re doing,” he said. “You’re saying ‘fuck you, I’m going to Chicago.’ He stumbled on to exactly why I’m so sad to leave. Because I have everything here; I have great friends, and acquintences, and social circles, and an apartment, and a life I love, and I have to take the chance that I’m not going to have all those things in Chicago.

I’m going to really miss CK, and he admitted he would miss me too. We had the same conversation we’ve had several times, and the conclusion was the same, and that also sucks. (“You need to find yourself a decent boyfriend,” he told me. I rolled my eyes) We hugged good-bye and promised to keep in touch. And hugged good-bye again (we were both pretty drunk.)

And yeah, we’ll keep in touch. But it’s never going to be the way it is right now.  I know this whole long good-byes thing is bringing out my penchant for drama, but damn….I’m going to miss him.