I’ve had Irish exit urges for all of my life. As a kid, I would ask my mom to make up excuses to get me out of social situations (or that would prevent me from having to enter them in the first place). I remember, at about eight years old, not wanting to be at a friend's house anymore but believing, and sometimes still believing to this day, that it was inappropriate to just say that. My mom had been in a fender bender earlier that afternoon and I had a disproportionate amount of anxiety, maybe for the first time in my life, about something terrible happening to her after an accident that caused absolutely no harm to anyone involved. But, it was a different time and anxiety wasn’t a good excuse, I probably didn’t even know what anxiety was—in the future, I had to be physically sick. That’s the advice my mom gave me.
I’m drawn to the Irish exit for two main reasons. One is that I don’t think anyone would or should care if I leave a gathering. The other is that I’m slightly avoidant: there is something about telling people that I’m leaving a place just because I want to, and whatever they would think of me because of that, that I want nothing to do with.
In 2016, in Thrillist’s “Why the Irish Exit Is a Mark of High Moral Character”, writer Wil Fulton explains that the Irish exit clicked for him when someone told him “No one cares if you leave,”. While this is sometimes true, what happens when they do care? Or when they feel the need to pretend like they care? The worst thing is when people try to guilt or peer-pressure you into staying. There is something performative and disingenuous about this particular interaction: you say you’re leaving, the other person acts disappointed, you feel the need to apologize, and then a back and forth about future hang outs that will probably never happen ensues. Then, I somehow remain at a party that I don’t want to be at ten minutes after I intended to leave and, on top of that, I have to recover from a fake, unsavory interaction that could’ve been avoided entirely.
One of the many things I learned throughout my four years of college: when a standard Irish exit isn’t always feasible, you can always turn to the assisted Irish exit with the help of a friend. I went to a tiny liberal arts college amongst nature on the Hudson River. I learned to drive on those wide open roads which is to say that it will always be special to me. On that picturesque campus many debaucherous nights were had, often including parties with weird themes, some being “naked” and “semi-naked”. I preferred the larger parties where I could maintain some sense of anonymity and where I didn’t feel as seen, but you could never predict if a party would consist of the whole school or only fifteen people–you just had to show up.
It wasn’t the semi-nakedness that got to me as I stood in my friend’s random roommate’s push up bra and low-rise trousers at a small party of twenty (at most) twenty-one year olds at a shitty overpriced apartment on Broadway in Tivoli, New York. I was happy to be naked as long as I could also be anonymous. So what did I do to remove myself from this very specific situation? A classic Irish exit wouldn’t suffice as there were so few people and we were gathered right in front of the one exit. I texted my roommate, asked her to call me and stay on the phone with me while I casually exited. Arguably, if you look busy and make simply walking out the door look casual (you have nothing to hide, after all), no one will question it.
Some people will quickly call the Irish exit rude, but this is my question: what do we really owe other people in social interactions like parties? And how does that compare to what we owe ourselves? And even if it is a tiny bit rude, does how much it protects my peace and anxiety outweigh that? At what point and to what extent is it okay to be a little rude in order to protect your own mental health? Why, when the decision to leave is about me and me only, is it rude at all? Isn’t me, gently trying to avoid bumming other people out, actually not that impolite at all?
I genuinely understand why some might think I'm rude. I understand that some people, after hosting a party and extending the invitation, want to be thanked and acknowledged for doing so. But does it have to be done in that very moment amongst the chaos of drunk friends, loud music, and overlapping conversations? We've been conditioned to extend ourselves to other people beyond what we want or can even handle. When we decide that we don't want to and when we choose ourselves, it's impolite. I go to things, places, or events all the time just because I feel like I have to. Often times I'm glad I went, and sometimes I wish I'd stayed home. And to an extent I think it's okay to do things to make other people happy, to sort of fake it til you make it. But, when all is said and done, if an Irish exit preserves the last bit of social energy you have left, don't say goodbye. It will be okay, I promise. It might actually make you feel good.
The Irish exit is about honoring your social battery and however long that might last. It’s about eliminating the most anxiety-inducing aspects of social interactions from the equation. It’s about knowing where you stand, for better or worse, and being self aware enough to understand that the world, or the party, doesn’t revolve around you. And when you leave, it will continue to go on, so what’s the point of saying goodbye? If you want to leave now, then go.
