QUEER LIFE
By Ryan Perdio
“Good luck with everything.”
A relatively inoffensive phrase, it’s a great goodbye line one can use when in need to impart sentiments that could otherwise be upsetting to those on the receiving end.
I’ve used it many a time to potential suitors who turned out to be less than appealing for one reason or another.
I sent it by text to the guy I dated briefly for a week after he wondered why I hadn’t gotten in contact with him for several days. The reason? Our last meeting up close had me exercising my ability to hold my breath for quite a while after I couldn’t put up with his halitosis any longer. I would have made a very good deep water diver.
I emailed it to another boy after I realised that he enjoyed doing “it” more over the webcam than he did in real life. I wondered if my constant typings of ‘lols’ and ‘brbs’ were what kept getting him off. If only he performed just as well in the flesh as he did over the flat panel monitor, the boy would be a superstar.
And I said it to the loser who turned up at our first meet looking completely different to that of his profile pic. Much to my dismay, he resembled more like a real life version of Munch’s Scream rather than the attractive Jude Law look-a-like in his profile page. Thanks for nothing, Photoshop.
In all three occasions, this simple phrase worked like a charm. It delivered, in the nicest and most diplomatic way, what the somewhat eyebrow-raising aphorism of “get lost, I never want to see your smelly, impotent, ugly face ever again” could never do. Even my friends have cottoned on and have used it with great successs.
So, I suppose it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I would one day be the recipient of said phrase. What I did find amazing was the combination that I inevitably got slapped with.
Jim and I met up for our post break-up talk. It went well. We aired our concerns, explained our reasons, and caught up with plenty of small talk. I thought we’d left things on a good note.
That was until we were saying goodbye to each other at a busy street corner.
I wished him a pleasant time for his coming holiday and in return he replied with this line:
“Well, good luck with everything…
…and see you around.”
A double serve of inoffensive actually hurts. Ouch.
