Wow, No Thank You.: Essays

This essay recounts a recent night of clubbing—something Irby rarely does as a married, almost-forty-year-old adult—detailing all the inconveniences and compromises the night entails and placing these observations alongside her memories of the much more carefree partying she did as a young adult. Though she will not leave home until late in the evening, her preparations begin when she wakes at 8:30am. Almost immediately, reluctance and regret seize her. She wonders whether she should back out, whether backing out would alienate the friends who asked her to accompany them, and when is the “point of no return,” after which she cannot back out.

The author expresses several personal concerns that dominate her preparations. Foremost are the intestinal issues caused by her Crohn’s disease and worsened by anxiety. She also wrestles with her appearance, creating a list of questions about what her friends and other club patrons will think if she wears certain outfits. She considers everything that might go wrong in the evening as she remembers past club nights that ended disastrously. She asks, “when better to slide down a self-esteem spiral than when a cab is outside with the meter running and I’m about to embark on a full evening of casual judgment from inebriated strangers” (22).

Irby’s minute-by-minute imagining of a night out includes encounters with strangers, difficult communication, and mistaken identity. In this case, an imaginary patron believes Irby is her fellow Black Chicago author—Irby’s friend—Roxanne Gay and requests a photo. Flattered to be mistaken for Gay, Irby pauses for the selfie. As the evening progresses, the author imagines herself turning slowly into a werewolf, waiting until the last safe moment to catch a cab to her hotel, where, at 3:30am, she wants to order room service oatmeal.

This essay is Irby’s tribute to her iPhone, about which she says, “please excuse me while I build a shrine to the new most important thing in my life” (36). Though confessing that she is a relative newcomer to smartphones, Irby acknowledges her complete dependence upon them. She is aware of the potential dangers of cellphone use, not just from radiation emissions but also potential neurological impacts of using it. The author recognizes that smartphone use has become the dominant action of today’s culture. She asks, “When is the last time an actual human interaction made you laugh more than a meme did” (40).

Though fully aware of the problematic nature of cellphones, she argues that they are worthy of the impact they have on humans. She realizes the potential of smartphones while she is eating with a group of friends who decide to put their phones away and not look at them throughout the meal. Irby senses that everyone around the table yearns to check their Twitter accounts. Ironically, she writes, “I wish I knew what everyone else on earth is doing at this exact moment. I wonder if there is a device nearby that could tell me” (37).

As dependent as she is upon her phone, she nevertheless places limits upon it. This is in part because she has grown tired of people bumping into her while looking at their screens. She confesses she deleted her Facebook account because the constant noise from her pretend friends made the platform untenable for her. She also willingly employs the phone’s blocking feature. This, she proclaims, is a great human advancement. She posits that humanity in general would be better off if one could block people in real life as one can on an iPhone. She concludes the essay by encouraging readers to get the perfect gift for all their friends, a new smartphone.

Irby describes her lasting attachment to her selection of music going back to her middle school days. She listened first to audio cassettes, then transitioned to CDs, though she has kept all the music she acquired regardless of its original format. Each of these recordings holds a powerful meaning for her.

Of major significance in her early adolescence is the cassette mixtape: a unique rerecording of various songs copied onto a blank tape. She writes, “Mixtapes were the love language of my youth. If you got one from me, that shit was as serious as a marriage proposal” (45).

To demonstrate the importance of her music, Irby writes that the essay is actually a mixtape for the reader. She lists the artists and songs she wants readers to hear and love as she does. Indeed, explaining the format of the essay, she says, “Here is my 90s mixtape for you. Please love me” (46).

Irby describes herself as searching in her teens and twenties, with music providing wisdom, solace, and inspiration. Often, the author describes where she was and what she was doing when she first encountered a recording and the profound, immediate impact the music had upon her. Several times, Irby confesses that she does not fully understand the lyrics of a song, though the emotional impact of the melody leaves no doubt about its meaning.

Like several other essays in the collection, this one takes the form of a modified list. The author begins by pronouncing herself an expert on romantic relationships now that she is married. Being an expert, she says, she will answer a list of questions posed by curious, troubled romantic souls. The list of questions, while elaborately expressed, covers common romantic and matrimonial issues: coping with misbehaving children, the partner who refuses permanent commitment, hoping a lover will change for the better over time, dealing with unaccepting in-laws, searching for just-the-right person, deciding whether potential mates have too much baggage, worrying about a spouse’s former loves, a spouse’s unwillingness to engage in new romantic endeavors, adapting to different work schedules, and tolerating a spouse’s disgusting habits.

She counsels imaginary questioners to recognize that older people do not have to worry about the actions of young people—or understand their culture. In warning readers not to expect change for the better in a potential spouse, Irby writes, “I have often listened to the words a person I was in love with said to me and ignored what they actually meant, to instead project onto them what I wanted it to mean” (69). She advises readers to ask themselves what worthwhile benefit a hateful in-law might bring to them, saying, “most people really do have absolutely nothing to offer you” (74). Since there is no one right person waiting for a soulmate, the author states, every relationship requires some degree of willingness to settle for a less than the perfect match. Trying to control one’s spouse is futile, she says, and it interferes both with the spouse’s and the reader’s search for happiness.

In moving from Chicago to Kalamazoo, Irby left behind a network of friends she developed over several decades. In this essay, she voices grave concern about how to acquire new friends in a locale that is diametrically different from her former dense urban home space. While friends had emerged naturally in her previous setting, Irby feels lost when it comes to bonding with people as an older person in an unfamiliar locale. She asks, “How in the fuck do people ever make non-romantic friends” (90).

Irby makes a list of the qualities she seeks in a potential friend. Whenever she encounters someone who might be friendship material, she goes down the list, counting the Pros versus the Cons. This process yields no viable candidates for many months.

When she finally has a second encounter with Emily, a potential friend and young mother who reminds her of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Irby worries that she is too eager and that she will repel Emily through her social clumsiness. They arrange a lunch date. Terrified that something might go wrong during the meal, Irby strives to project a happy, casual, interesting persona. When the young waiter hesitates to give Irby back her credit card, she fears the charge has been declined. The youth asks her if she is from Chicago. For an instant, the author believes he has recognized her, and responds brightly, “Are you familiar with my work” (97). Embarrassed, the waiter replies that he recognizes the picture of the Chicago skyline on her card. Despite her chagrin, over-eagerness, and perpetual anxiety, Irby and Emily end up as friends, sharing the same workspace.