I want to be The Comeback Kid, or at the very least, Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.
Not a “comeback kid” in the sense that I make some sensational recovery after a fall from grace, but as someone who always has the perfect rejoinder to any jab sent my way.
At my worst, I simply look like a dummy who has lost her ventriloquist, mouth agape, wordless, waiting for someone to feed me a line.
I don’t want to be a dummy. I want to be Julia Roberts, who when confronted with a snarky saleswoman and denied service, retaliates with the line, “You people work on commission right? Big mistake. Big. Huge. I have to go shopping now.”
Maybe I just need a Hollywood screenwriter following me around, whispering in my ear those clever lines I apparently forget when I’m dealing with a nasty person.
It started decades ago; this inability to form a coherent sentence when faced with a verbal volley. An old boyfriend approached me at a party and delivered the world’s best/worst line while standing barely a foot from my face.
He said it with such aplomb that I had to admire the self-confidence he displayed while delivering this subtle attack. Had I not been on the receiving end, I might have clapped at his nasty jab. Instead, I became a dummy.
My mouth fell open, my heart beat faster and faster, and I swallowed hard. No words though. Just numbness and shock. Clearly his screenwriter was angling for an Oscar, while mine was on some sort of a writer’s strike.