Copy + Paste Comebacks: What I Wish I’d Say in the Immediate Aftermath of Conflict
My favorite nighttime activity is to replay unfortunate situations from my day and reflect on how poorly I handled them. I think about what I said, what I wish I had said, and how sad it is that those two things never match. Oh, you like to do this too? Great. Fantastic. We’re all sick.
Well, actually, something happened to me this weekend that made me say — ENOUGH! Next time I am in a situation that feels like I need a juicy-and-fitting retort to someone who is either being mean or thoughtless, I WILL have the perfect response. And when I need my brain to supply me with the right words, I have found that relying on a handful of catch phrases has helped me in various situations (i.e. things like “evidently” or “and all that good stuff” or “really makes you think”). Most of these are words I’ve stolen from other people, like my mother, my full-time colleague and part-time lover, Holly, or my part-time colleague and my full-time lover, Ben. I have now found that the most appropriate next step in my life as a young-woman-in-the-city is to officially start compiling a personal glossary of sorts — a little library of phrases. Or, rather, copy + paste comebacks (Kochert, 2024).
Please go on a mental journey with me, back to last Friday night, at Roscoe’s Tavern. It was Drag Race night, and therefore, Friday Night Lights. The drag artist guests included Plane Jane, Nymphia Wind, Maddy Morphosis, and Sapphira Cristál. Needless to say, it was a night worth coming out for. The entire bar was electric — full of young and hot queers from all over the city, all sipping our little drinks and hypnotized by the TV screens that were airing this week’s episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race. I was at a table with 10 of my friends and friends of friends, all of us yelping and screaming and laughing at all the shady bitches on this season. After knocking back two Diet Cokes, my dear friend, Abbie, turned to me and said, “Let’s go pee.”
Allow me to set the scene: the bathroom was full of beautiful twenty-something girls who were dressed in their best “night-out” outfits, including sparkly tops and drag queen merch. While I am 26 and very much in my prime partying years, I sometimes feel like a proper thirty-something who is fighting an endless battle of sleepiness after finishing my one alcoholic beverage of the night: a vodka diet coke. (Note: I’m on a huge sober bender right now, but that’s beside the point.) No tea, no shade to thirty-somethings — in reality this really has nothing to do with age and more so to do with my own energy levels and my hesitance to lose control over my body. All of this to day, I didn’t put THAT much effort into looking like a “city girl” that night, simply because I was tired. I opted for a tight-fitting black tee shirt, Old Navy jeans, and Adidas sneakers. My hair was slicked back into a low ponytail. On one hand, I was not impressing anyone, and on the other, isn’t not trying to impress anyone the most impressive move of all? (Don’t answer that). In my mind, I am here for three reasons and three reasons only: to gab with my girls, watch world-class drag, and eat a crispy chicken wrap with a side caesar salad — AND be in bed by midnight. And I can certainly accomplish that with my low-key approach.
As we stood in line for the next stall, Abbie and I were talking about upcoming concerts because it feels like EVERYONE and their mother is going on tour right now AND festival season is almost upon us. We were confiding in each other about how secretly we needed a break from concerts 1) to save money and 2) seeing live shows can be tiring for an old hag like me! Abbie told me she got tickets to see Charli xcx, which is wonderful news, of course. “I would love to go to that show,” I told her. “But I’m just… I don’t know. I can’t keep up anymore!” I love Charli, she’s like a goddess to me, but I’m rarely quick enough to act on getting tickets in time before they sell out. (And it sold out really quick lmao.) Needless to say, our conversation was super casual, nothing serious, and definitely not something that was super indicative of where we are from (this will make sense in a moment).
Two girls emerged from the larger corner stall. The girl on the left looked at us immediately, which made me think that we might possibly know her. Oh god, not this, I thought. I really don’t want to socialize in the Roscoe’s women’s bathroom during Drag Race. She opened her mouth and said with equal parts drunken confidence and passive aggression, “You guys sound like you’re from the suburbs.” Okay, I definitely don’t know this bitch.
I looked at her in shock and surprise, and neither one of us say anything. For one thing, she’s right (at least for me, I AM from the suburbs; Abbie is from Iowa). But why did she feel the need to exclaim that immediately after taking a piss? The friend immediately toted her out of the a bathroom, as if she was the publicist for suburb girl and she was a celebrity about to defame herself on camera. I don’t even think they washed their hands (tacky).
Abbie turned to me and said in a low voice, “Uh, girl, I live down the street.” I laughed and asked, “Was that a supposed to be a DIG or something?” Abbie guffawed and said “YEAH, it was.” Grrrrrrrrr.
Another girl who was leaning up against the stalls looked at us with pity. “There’s a lot of weird energy in here tonight,” she said empathically. “I’m so confused,” I said to keep any silence from slipping through. I turned to energy girl and asked, “Are you waiting for a stall?” she looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “No, I’m just in here,” she replied. Ohhhkayyy…
What the actual hell?? How was “you guys sound like you’re from the suburbs” supposed to be a dig? And what did we say that was so suburban coded??? (Don’t answer that either). I know this might sound ridiculous, but I also made myself feel bad for not putting more effort into my appearance that night. I was out on the town, after all. To be honest, I don’t really care THAT much, because of the shock/confusion of it all, but dang I wish I had the perfect comeback for her that wasn’t just me looking at her in total shock.
If I could go back in time and say something to her, I would steal what my friend Maggie said to Abbie: I would look right back at her and say sweetly, “What? You need a ride?” (BACK TO WHEATON BITCH).
ANYWAY. This entire interaction made me remember how much I deeply want to be so quick-witted in the face of discomfort and conflict so that I always say exactly the right thing in the moment.
Here are my copy + paste comebacks:
“Tell that to my lawyer!”
“Y’all talk amongst yourselves.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“I’m not your server so i don’t know why you’re giving me a TIP.”
“When was the last time you had an eye exam?”
“Talk to the hand because the face doesn’t want to hear it.”
