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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
Blow is just an expression
What happened: About four high school freshmen - you know, 14-15 year old boys - were just sitting around talking, and the subject somehow got around to blowjobs. I was well-known to be the most naive of the group, and one boy (we'll call him Randy) said to me, "I'll bet you don't know how to blow a guy, do you?"
Thirty years later, I came up with the perfect reply.
What I said: (in a very facetious tone) Sure I do. And I puffed out a breath of air through pursed lips.
What I SHOULD have said: You're right, I don't, but I'll bet you're just the guy to show me. (How was I to know I'd grow up gay? Wonder if he did, too.)
The French call it l'esprit d'escalier, "the wit of the staircase," those biting ripostes that are thought of just seconds too late, on the way out of the room-or even, to tell the truth, days later. It's happened to you: you've suddenly thought of just what would put your foe in his or her place, but past the time when the arrow could sting its victim. You've stewed in your own juice ever since, and the chance for singeing repartee is gone forever.
Or is it?
Dorothy Parker or Oscar Wilde may have had the rapier wit to tweak their tormentors on the spot, but for the rest of us, we offer the Internet's only L'esprit d'escalier web site!