I think a lot of people have a friend like my friend C. We were thick as thieves for about five years, and then he disappeared from my life. I can't seem to track him down - and in all honesty, I haven't tried that hard - but if he wanted to be in touch he could be, and that's the part that breaks my heart. I miss him all the time.

It's hard to describe what it was like to be around him. He made the world seem full of possibilities and horrifyingly sad all in the same breath. It seemed like he could be famous, and like I could be his famous sidekick. We drank way too much together and by the end of most nights were the saddest drunks in the world. We wanted boyfriends. We wanted to be someplace else. We wanted to keep partying. And sometimes we resented the fact that we were only left with each other.

Sometimes I basked in the glow of being his friend, and sometimes I felt awkward, like I was saying the wrong thing, certainly wearing the wrong thing, and like he was looking for someone more clever to hang out with. But when we were good, we were great - in a way that I haven't felt with many people.

I have no illusions that I was "special" in his life, even though he would say things to me like "I love you more than anyone" and "nobody knows me like you." He probably said that to a hundred girls in his lifetime. It was just so effective! And it's not that I don't think that he did love me - I'm sure he did, and maybe still does in his own complicated way.

Two years ago I got married to Ashley and I wanted C to be there. He couldn't come because he was "sorting himself out." I was pretty upset, but frankly hopeful that he'd come out of things swinging. Last week I googled him (after trying to email him at his last known workplace and being told he left with no forwarding information) and found a picture of him at and Hermes opening (perfect) with a huge cocktail in his hand. So maybe he hasn't sorted himself out quite yet. Who knows.

I've emailed him about the upcoming arrival of our daughter, and haven't heard back. I'm not surprised, just sad. I'd love for my daughter to know him - for some of that magic to light up her picture of the world like it did mine.

It's just occurring to me that the last time I saw C was waving good-bye to him as I stumbled out of a cab in New York after a LONG night. He was on his way to another party and I had to work in the morning. Before I left for work the next day, I saw that he had called me several times in the wee hours of the morning - something I had grown very used to, no matter how many time zones were between us. I wonder who he calls now.

In my perfect world, we'll be friends again when we live closer. I think he'd really like my husband. I fantasize about him having his own place in our house where he can come and rest and write and play with our girl on the weekends.