Midnight Repartee

My wife and I suffer from what we have come to call a case of “midnight repartee.” I don't think we coined this term. It seems to have been around for some time, and it does seem to accurately describe the nature of our responses to certain kinds of incidents in life.

But first, what do I mean by repartee? My dictionary defines it as “conversation or speech characterized by quick, witty comment or replies.” Its origin is from the 17^th century French word repartie , which means “replying promptly.” Synonyms for repartee are: witty conversation, banter, and lively exchange.

So when we refer to ourselves as practitioners of midnight repartee, we see ourselves as not being witty in the present moment, or not being able to come up with some kind of quick-response banter. As a result, we find ourselves often having a rather emotional reaction to what someone just said or did, and wanting to say something erudite, but just not quite able to respond with a sparkling or impressive phrase. We're sort of tongue-tied, or too shy to speak up, because we know that our response will be—rather than sparkling—quite dull.

Yet, a few hours later (maybe around midnight), an eloquent response pops to mind, accompanied with the wish to have had the wherewithal to have spoken up and impressed everyone, back when the incident occurred. Now it's too late. Now we're all alone, with only ourselves to impress, and we've been around each other too long to be dazzled by the other's wit.

For much of my life I have envied friends who excelled at repartee. I remember many occasions of being with friends who were witty and who impressed everyone with their quick and droll responses. These friends seemed to be quick on the uptake, as I stood by speechless and clueless as to what to say. I admired how fast they were.. how nimble and clever they seemed to be.

I can't recall how many times I've had a clever midnight repartee later come to mind, as I regretted that I was too late to have swayed those folks present at the time, by displaying my verbal adeptness. Too little, too late.

So much for regrets of being slow witted. In contrast (maybe in an attempt to save face?) I think there can maybe a beneficial side to the lack of having instant repartee: Maybe I'm slow and unable to dazzle people with my prompt wit, but maybe it also makes for a more calm and peaceful life. I have observed my quick-witted friends, for example, put their opponent in their place, only to experience an unpleasant rebound later, as their opponent returns with a vengeance. The price of instant wittiness can sometimes be an enduring enemy. When we shoot from the hip or respond in the heat of the moment, we can say things that we later regret. If instead, we pause, hold back, and reflect on the dynamics of the moment, we can give ourselves a chance to respond a little more sensibly.

Long ago I came upon the wisdom of practicing nonviolence. Those who behave nonviolently usually are not reactive, but appropriately respond in the moment from a centered place of calm and reason. Gandhi had the presence of mind and centeredness to be able to respond in the moment with insight and wisdom. One of my best examples of this is a time when a Western journalist asked Gandhi what he thought about Western civilization. Gandhi instantly responded, “I think it's a good idea.” If only I could be so quick and sage!

So I've often regretted my delayed midnight repartee in reaction to events and wished I were quicker on the draw. But maybe it's brought me a little more peace of mind, less controversy, and fewer antagonists. Maybe others have not been impressed by my quick wit (or the lack of it), but maybe it's helped me to live a quieter, more peaceful life, in the slow, solitude I've forged. And I think it's a more appropriate lifestyle for a hermit.