CHAPTERS on French Exits
Is there any good in goodbye?
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The other week, I felt so guilty about attempting a French exit that I went back into an event to say goodbye to people. Is that normal, or have I officially lost the plot?
French exit: a slang term for leaving an event or location without informing others or seeking approval. It's also known as an Irish goodbye.
I just couldn't do it—not because I particularly think it's rude (though I'm sure some people do), but more because I hate saying goodbyes. Everyone loves a hello and the promise of beginnings that the word brings. People are happy when you show up, but surely, no one enjoys the leaving part or being left behind? Even if I'm ready to go, I get immediate nostalgia and melancholy when a moment comes to an end.
However, after my failed French exit, as my goodbyes started to compete with the length of Elton John’s farewell tour, I began to think I’d attached too much meaning to them. I stood around making vague promises to “do this more often” and apologising, “I haven’t had more chance to chat,” and honestly found a new sympathy for ghosting.
I’ve been thinking about endings a lot recently, especially after deciding to hand in my notice at work. As it would be quite inappropriate to ghost an employer, I had a leaving do and was truly sad to be saying goodbye to my work friends. Having learned my lesson from the failed French exit, though, I vowed to myself that I would halt the gloomies and try to reframe it as a “cya later.” Or, as my old boss at the BBC used to say, “It’s not goodbye, it’s au revoir” (i.e., goodbye until we meet again).
When I left my job at the BBC, I had a leaving hangover for months afterward. Having worked there for eight formative years of my career, I felt quite bereft. I constantly looked back and compared all my new jobs to it: “Well, we didn’t do it like that at the BBC.” But this time, leaving feels more like a new beginning than an end.
After dragging out one too many farewells and clinging to old chapters like a nostalgic ghost, I am letting go of my tendency to attach undue weight to every ending. I've come to understand that goodbyes don’t always need to mean heartache. Learning to let go and embrace new chapters instead feels liberating. It’s not about cutting ties or forgetting what has come before; letting a door close can be a gateway to what comes next. I’m trying to welcome fresh starts without the fear of finality.
I might not have fully embraced the French exit yet, but I’m seeing its appeal. Perhaps not every departure needs a grand conclusion. Maybe it’s okay to sneak off subtly, trusting that the moments shared were enough without a long goodbye. Just like seasons changing without fanfare, can there simply be a natural end? Perhaps slipping out quietly is just another way of letting go of the past and making space for the future.