L’esprit de escalier

Ah, but what I could have said. The words that are too late to deliver. Coming up with an awesome remark, much too late.

English really needs a word that captures the true feeling of wishing you had been wittier. I suppose you could always call someone a few days after a conversation, and tell them what you should have said. Can you say awkward goofball? Not happening. 

So, what's a girl to do?

When I'm typing, I have more time to think about what words I put out for all to see. It's hard enough.

In conversation, it's harder.
I have had a few moments of thinking of the perfect comeback, right on the spot, when I'm talking to someone.
Have you ever felt this? It's a thrilling moment-- and then the moment is gone.

Sadly, moments like this are far and few between for me.

There are people out there who are gifted conversationalists, and they never have this issue. Right? There are actual people out there who always feel good about what they've said?

Mr. Collins comes to mind. 

(you know, the awkward, pompous suitor in Pride and Prejudice?) 

I think I've quoted this before, but he admitted to taking time to brainstorm little compliments. Is this the gifted conversationalist's secret? *snicker* I doubt it. 

Mr B: How happy for you, Mr. Collins, to possess a talent for flattering with such delicacy. 

Elizabeth: Do these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous study?

Collins: They arise chiefly from what is passing of the time. And though I do sometimes amuse myself with arranging such little elegant compliments, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible.


There's also the regret of what you shouldn't have said.  It happens, and the best you can do when you say something dumb is blush, apologize if necessary, and go hide in a corner. Or play it off. Whatever works.

Brian Reagan is the king of this.

He sums it all up perfectly:




Take luck!