You Said No and Suddenly Everybody Started Bidding

You say no.

Not a mysterious no. Not a delicate little no that could reasonably be mistaken for ask me again after dinner. Just a perfectly serviceable no, standing there minding its own business.

And then he asks again.

Well.

This is unexpected.

You thought you had answered the question, but he seems to think you have merely started the evening. So you explain a little more. You cannot tonight. You are not comfortable with that. You simply do not want to.

Surely one of those perfectly ordinary sentences should be enough.

Instead, somewhere in the distance, a paddle goes up.

Apparently, the bidding has begun.

Your Answer Has Somehow Become an Opening Bid

At first, the second request may not even look like pushing. It can arrive looking almost sweet.

“Are you sure?”

Yes.

“But why?”

So you tell him why, because you are a lovely person and nobody wants to behave as though a simple invitation requires armed security.

He listens politely enough, and then, somehow, the same request comes wandering back in a slightly prettier hat. What if later? What if only for a little while?

Interesting.

You have said no, and he has returned with the same question after giving it a small makeover.

From a little farther back, the pattern becomes easier to see. One person has answered, while the other keeps coming back with new versions of the same request. Meanwhile, the person who already said no starts polishing her answer as though perhaps it simply needs better manners.

So you soften it, add context, offer reassurance and maybe even throw in an apology, because apparently declining something now comes with a complimentary gift basket.

Every extra sentence gives him something new to pick at. Say you are tired, and suddenly tiredness is the problem to solve. Mention plans, and now he would quite like to know when those plans end.

Sir, this was a no. It did not need a bow on top.

The Auctioneer Remains Very Hopeful

By now, the original request has almost become beside the point.

From across the room, the scene is magnificent. One little no has somehow produced more questions, sweeter explanations and a gentleman who still looks oddly hopeful.

Nobody remembers putting anything up for sale, but the excitement is touching.

And still the bidding rolls on. He comes back with another version, you explain yourself once more, and somehow the same old request keeps returning with a fresh little makeover.

At some point, your perfectly ordinary boundary is sitting under bright lights while somebody nearby behaves as though persistence may eventually win him the evening.

No, sir.

Still no.

Would you care to hear it with a different accent?

The funny part is that after enough asking, you may start wondering whether you are somehow saying it badly. Maybe you need to say it more clearly. Or more kindly. Or with just the right amount of softness, as though one beautifully phrased no will finally make the whole thing click.

So the explanations get longer.

Meanwhile, the original no is sitting quietly to one side looking perfectly lovely and wondering why everybody keeps sending it back for alterations.

Because a man who has heard no four times is rarely waiting for the fifth version to improve his understanding. He understood the first one; he just liked another answer better.

Which is quite different, despite the surprisingly convincing little performance of confusion.

And once you see it, well, the whole auction starts looking rather silly.

Eventually, Somebody Notices the Hammer

After you have explained yourself several different ways, a funny thing can happen: eventually, you run out of new ways to say it.

There is no fresh reason waiting in the wings, no softer wording left to try, no prettier version with a little bow on it. What remains is the answer you gave at the beginning.

No.

Look at that.

Still works!

From farther back, the room suddenly looks much simpler. He asked. You answered. Everything after that has been an awful lot of fuss around a word that was perfectly fine the first time.

He may ask again, of course. By now he seems rather fond of the bidding, so there may be one last “But what if…?” or a slightly wounded look suggesting that surely No Number Seven will finally behave itself.

It will not.

And really, No Number One has been sitting there perfectly content this entire time.

You do not need another explanation, and you certainly do not need to make the answer prettier, sweeter or easier for him to receive.

The answer was already given.

From across the auction room, even the little wooden hammer is beginning to look impatient.

Because if a man has heard “no” six times, the difficulty is unlikely to be pronunciation.

At some point, the paddle can stay down, the explanations can go home, and the hopeful gentleman may finally discover that the bidding was never open in the first place.