Some of the most meaningful friendships come with an expiration date.
The waiter set our plates down. Deanna poked at her ravioli, not eating. Outside, the wind slammed against the windows hard enough to shake them.
“My husband thinks I’m ridiculous,” she said. “Getting emotional about someone I’ve known six months. A work friend.”
She twisted her wedding ring, spinning it around her finger. She always did that in meetings when she was nervous. Tomorrow, she’d board a flight to Seattle. The project would end. Our connection would fade into occasional LinkedIn likes.
“I never cry at goodbyes,” she said. “But this feels different.”
She was right. It wasn’t about losing a friendship. It was about knowing it was already complete.
Work throws people together fast
Meeting Deanna at project kickoff skipped the usual friendship timeline. No slow build, no testing common interests. By day three, we were splitting a cab to the client’s office and swapping complaints about marriage, career regrets, and family.
Corporate life creates these temporary families. Teams form overnight. People trust each other too quickly. For six months, Deanna was the closest person in my life. We celebrated wins, navigated setbacks, and built a connection calibrated exactly to its moment.
It reminded me of college friendships — intense and immediate. But those faded gradually, stretched over years of neglect. Deanna and I knew from the beginning this would end.
When she called out my tendency to steamroll quieter team members, I didn’t get defensive. She had no long-term stake in my ego, and I had no reason to resent her for saying it. Permanent friends had watched me do this for years without saying a word, careful not to disrupt the balance.
Not all friendships are built to last
People assign value to friendships based on longevity. Childhood best friends, high school reunions, decade-long relationships. Social media feeds the idea that friendships are only meaningful if they last forever.
My own social media feed fills with “friendship anniversary” notifications and throwback photos. Dating apps offer friendship versions promising to help find “lifelong connections.” The message is clear: length equals worth.
My mother still exchanges Christmas cards with her college roommate — a woman she hasn’t seen since 1982. They share nothing beyond fading memories of a dorm room. She considers this a lifelong friendship. She wouldn’t see my six-month bond with Deanna as the same.
Knowing when something is over
Traditional friendships come with obligations. Remembering birthdays. Making time for dinner. Attending weddings for people I barely talk to. Shared history turns into a set of unspoken duties.
Deanna and I never had that. We owed each other nothing beyond the moment we were in.
Four months in, she faced a career crisis. Her husband wanted her to quit consulting and take a stable corporate job closer to home. Over lunch in our client’s conference room, she laid it all out. I told her what I thought without worrying about long-term consequences.
“That job would crush you,” I said. “He wants stability for you, but stability would feel like a cage.”
She didn’t take my advice. She still thanked me for saying it.
Work friends don’t sugarcoat things
Corporate projects make fast, deep friendships possible. Shared purpose forces connection. High stakes and tight deadlines accelerate trust. There’s no awkward early phase, no deciding if a friendship is worth investing in. It just happens.
Deanna and I built our own shorthand. Inside jokes. Nicknames for difficult stakeholders. Hand signals during video calls. Our conversations didn’t waste time.
Workplace friendships often go deeper than long-term ones. My childhood best friend knows my history, but not my professional life. My permanent friends understand my personality, but they haven’t seen me de-escalate an angry client or negotiate with a difficult executive.
Deanna had. She knew parts of me they never would.
Why endings make friendships better
Modern work normalizes temporary relationships. Teams dissolve. Projects end. The gig economy treats professional relationships as inherently finite.
This isn’t a bad thing. When Deanna pointed out my micromanaging tendencies, it didn’t sting the way it would have from a lifelong friend. She had no stake in my long-term career. Her honesty felt safer.
In our last week, we swapped final observations. She admitted she avoided conflict. I admitted I struggled to delegate. Neither of us needed to change for each other. We just acknowledged the truth.
No need to force what’s already done
Our last hug in the restaurant’s entryway wasn’t dramatic. No promises to visit. No attempts to force something that had already run its course.
A few months later, Deanna’s name popped up in my messages. A picture of her new office. I liked it. She liked my post about a new project.
Some friendships don’t need longevity to matter. Some serve their purpose and leave both people better without obligation.
Her number is still in my phone. I like knowing it’s there.
