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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
High School is a bitch.
What happened: I was walking with a friend at school during lunch, and we passed by these guys that always hang out in a certain area at lunch. We usually pass by there, and one of my friends decided to tell the guys that the reason we did this was because I had a crush on one of them (which I did). So me and another friend are walking by, minding our own business and then one of the guys, a friend of the one I liked, shouts "Hey (guy) says he wants to date you!" Of course I knew this wasn't true. We barely talked and I'm not a looker. He knew I liked him, but he didn't show interest and instead tried avoiding me any time he saw me in the halls.
What I said: I didn't say anything, I just walked away.
What I SHOULD have said: I should have said "Damn, if only I knew before I got a girlfriend." It would have taken that smug look off that asshole's face when both me and the guy i liked looked embarased.
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!