Sunday, June 20, 2004

Imminent departure

My favorite coworker--aside from my best friend J.--is moving to Memphis in a week. We have a special relationship, this coworker and I. We are PFBs, Platonic Flirt Buddies. It won't be the same working at the bar without him.

The PFB is a friend of both me and the s.o. He's a bit younger than we are and he looks sort of like the grown-up Macaulay Culkin. He likes and respects us both (we've even talked about all three going on vacation to Holland together) and that's why I can depend on him 100 percent as a PFB. No matter how cute we act around one another, the fact of the matter is that I can trust him anytime to walk me to my car without getting weird, creepy, or touchy-feely. We consider each other adorable, but it's not like that. I can have real conversations with him--about emotions, personal histories, relationships, whatever--with no uncomfortable overtones or expectations. It's beautiful because it's the polar opposite of just about everything happening on the other side of the bar.

Last night was busy, hot, and crowded. The PFB and I worked on the same floor of the bar and clowned around. He accidentally poured half a Guinness on me (and I think it really was an accident). He asked me to hose him down with the water dispenser and I sprayed him straight in the face (oops!). After closing we talked about growing up in and around a university thanks to our parents' respective jobs. I was a good girl who followed Mommy to classes, and he was a rotten little nine-year-old thief asking grown-ups for spare change in the student union. It brought a smile to my face.

This is what's about to stop when the PFB moves to Memphis in one week. I like everyone who works at the bar, but he's irreplaceable. I'm glum. It's not even any consolation that J. has told me I'll probably end up getting more work once he's gone. I'd rather keep working a dodgy swing shift every week and have my PFB to talk to.

Change always comes whether we like it or not, doesn't it? Well, I'll survive. And as the s.o. keeps telling me, "Memphis sucks. He'll be back."