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Here is one story retold, albeit with a pithier ending:
What happened: There was this one girl that i met once and became really close friends with, and after a year of knowing eachother i finaly got the courage to go and ask her out she said yes only to pull out the last moment and say she wasnt ready, after that we started drifting away and i made friends with another girl, and now this old friend of mine is complaining that i never talk to her and all that sympathy crap, she also sent me a message saying that i dont seem to be myself anymore
What I said: i didnt reply
What I SHOULD have said: its the vodka
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!