Tuesday, July 15, 2014

The Irish Goodbye

By: Ben Seeder



If you know what it is then you know what it is, and you know that it’s really really really really really great. Oh man...how great is it?  It’s seriously so great. For those not in the know, The Irish Goodbye is leaving a party without saying goodbye to anyone and without making a sound. It’s so simple, and so great.

The Irish Goodbye was born out of necessity, as somehow there is a sample of millions and millions of people around the globe who for whatever reason have never acquired the basic skills of appropriately saying goodbye to friends at a party. Especially one where everyone’s fucked up. If you’re one of these people I can’t help you and don’t understand you, but if you’ve clicked on this link, then chances are you’re among the untold number of victims who’ve at one point or another had to deal with this egregious horseshit and you want your life back.

The first step in the nightmare involves telling the offender(s) that as an adult you’ve concluded it’s time to say goodnight and leave the party. This is usually met by the offender staring blankly at you for a minimum ten seconds, as if they are seeing you for the first time in their lives. Then, you’re likely to be repeatedly informed “You’re not leaving. You’re not leaving bro” as hands begin being placed on you. This of course opens the door to negotiations and promises of the riches you will be missing out on for the rest of the evening (“We’ve got a DJ, bro. Dollar bottles bro”). The chief culprit then provides you the courtesy of informing the rest of the party en masse that you’re talking about taking off, including people you had no intention of saying goodbye to anyway.

Your notice of exit is taken as a personal affront to their youth, self-worth, and capacity for fun. Your attempt to leave this party prematurely has touched a deep-seeded nerve of the utmost sensitivity where you have confirmed their darkest suspicions that they are in fact boring and not good enough. Everyone has these insecurities, but theirs strangely manifests itself most strongly in the party arena.

They refuse to honor your thought process and adult decision making skills and it is extremely, extremely selfish. They refuse to believe you are tired. They will not accept that you are not having an amazing time. How could you not be having an amazing time? They are. It is inconceivable that you would have anything else to do. They put their face close to yours. They breathe on you. They will never be as serious about anything ever for the rest of their lives. You’ve opened Pandora’s Box and you will be punished for your ignorance.

Once the negotiation process has been exhausted and you’ve been put in the position of having to borderline scream at a grown man in public, it is then that they exercise perhaps their most masterful stroke of genius. Now that you’ve been coerced into deliberating with them for at least five minutes and they’ve gotten you nice and worked up, in a spectacular display of reverse psychology, they quickly and coldly tell you “Fine, bye” and turn away, leaving you stunned. The icing on the cake usually involves a girlfriend or mutual friend of the offender who possesses the minimum amount of perception and clarity to understand what is actually happening and intermittently chimes in with “Jesus Christ, Brad! Just let him leave! He wants to go home! Let him leave already, Brad!” like a chorus of angels. At best, you get out alive forty minutes later having made plans to hang out all day the next day starting first thing in the morning with breakfast. When the next morning comes they go on to somehow avoid becoming the asshole when they bail and text you later that day that they decided to sleep in. They’re tired, bro.

He's not just leaving. He's the leaviest man alive.

But guess what? There’s a way around this whole nightmare and it’s called The Irish Goodbye. You don’t say a word and just leave. You skip the bullshit and go about your business. It’s one hundred percent anonymous and it’s glorious. Plus, it’s fun in a juvenile way you’re less and less able to check in with as you get older. It’s also fun to imagine everyone’s faces as they arrive at the conclusion you just up and took off like thirty to forty five minutes after it’s actually happened. The beauty of The Goodbye is that it puts all the pressure of being an asshole back onto the very clowns that necessitated the need for its invention to begin with. How pissed are they willing to be days later, especially over something so stupid? It’s their call, but it won’t be worth it. The Irish Goodbye’s sheer balls and total stupidity render its victims defenseless. Sometimes they don’t even notice you left at all, instantly erasing the need for any kind of explanation or apology.

I’ve been a practitioner of The Irish Goodbye since college, before I even knew it by name. Initially, it feels strange and wrong. However, the guilt quickly evaporates and is replaced by fun. The Irish Goodbye is not particularly suited for small gatherings, but you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, and it’s better than enduring a useless night any longer than you have to. The world would be easier if we chose not to be confused or offended by The Goodbye. If we chose to embrace that each person’s exits and entrances were in their best interest and none of our business.

Don’t be just another victim.

I’m Ben Seeder, and I endorse The Irish Goodbye.




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