'Your letter did hurt' - Copper Face Jacks replies to Stefanie Preissner's tongue-in-cheek letter accusing them of 'gaslighting' her with a gold card
Copper Face Jacks has responded to a letter from Stefanie Preissner in which she accused the popular Dublin hotspot of 'gaslighting' her with a gold card.
The Can't Cope Won't Cope creator's letter, which appeared in last week's Sunday Independent, addressed her "awful" relationship with the club.
"I'm writing to you to take responsibility for my part in the crazy relationship we had, but I'm also going to highlight to you how you could have succeeded in your attempt to destroy me if I'd let you," she wrote.
She said the "intoxicating" nightclub wooed her with their "nostalgic 5ive Megamix and 90s music" and "benefited hugely from me practically moving in".
She also said the boys they hang out with are "knobs", the addition of an ATM machine chipped "away at my future security without interruption" and she "brought my own drink in Capri-Sun pouches" despite being given a gold card.
However, Copper Face Jacks haven't taken the accusations levelled at them lying down, responding with their own open letter on Twitter.
They begin, "We really don't want to make this one of those personal attacks, like the whole Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran thing, but we must admit your letter did hurt.
"The way the whole relationship played out, left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth. Maybe, you just didn't realise how much we were into you."
The letter addresses the gaslighting-with-a-gold-card accusation, "In truth, it was our desperate attempt to pin you down. Kind of like a proposal if you will. We were never good at expressing our feelings but this was merely an attempt to keep you in our life forever."
The letter concludes, "Our feelings towards you, Stefanie, are not filled with hatred, but regret. What might have been?"
Stefanie retweeted the letter with the caption, "Getting an open letter from @CopperFaceJacks is most definitely the highlight of my career to date #cantcopewontcope"
Read the two letters here in full:
Dear Copper Face Jacks,
I know we haven't seen each other in a while and I didn't really give you any warning that I was going to disappear. I guess I didn't really know myself that our last night together would be our last night together. I've been keeping an eye on you and honestly I'm thrilled for you to see you doing so well. I remember laughing at that cloakroom idea, but you really proved me wrong. Fair play.
I'm writing to you to take responsibility for my part in the crazy relationship we had, but I'm also going to highlight to you how you could have succeeded in your attempt to destroy me if I'd let you.
Firstly, yes, I was the one who made things get too serious too fast. You were intoxicating. I couldn't get enough of you. But you knew what you were doing with your nostalgic 5ive Megamix and 90s music and your 'Free in before 10' deals. I should have stayed content with seeing you one or two nights a week, but you knew how to make me feel at home, and you benefited hugely from me practically moving in. I must have bankrolled your existence while we were together.
In the end, there was just too much false hope with you. You promised me everything. You promised me happiness and freedom from stress, but all you ever gave me was a headache and overpriced plastic keyrings with photos of me and strangers in them. You promised we could dance. I imagined it like it is in the black-and-white movies where two strangers happen to know the exact same jive routine and slot right into each other. What I got was torn ligaments and a punch in the back of the head by a Mayo supporter attempting the Macarena.
You were so inconsistent. We'd spend some nights together and they are still the happiest of my life and then others, for no reason, you'd get your friends in their suits to drag me away from you. What was that about? I was a delight to be around on those nights.
Too many of the boys you hang around are absolute knobs. Seriously. Your friends are gross. I know I may not have greeted them with all the warmth and integrity of a British butler, but at least I didn't grab them by the ass or stick my tongue in their mouths without their consent. You should do something about this going forward. In your defence, your friends in suits stepped in when they witnessed these tete-a-tetes. Also, can you teach your male friends how a queue works? You might also bring them to a dance class while you're dealing with my earlier point. I have tried to assist more men with what I thought were fits of epilepsy than I care to remember.
I know it's not trendy to play the blame game but I have to blame you for one more thing. I'm approaching my 30s, Coppers, and my bank account looks like an emergency phone number. At this point in my life, it would be great to have some semblance of a savings account so I can do the expected adult things like get a pension, or a mortgage, health insurance or gym membership, but you've made sure I'm as unstable as the drinkers who hang on for your rendition of the national anthem at the end of the night. Did you have to go and get your own ATM machine? Really? Would it have been so awful to leave it at cashback? At least then we had the chance to be talked out of the decision by surrounding barflies. Getting your cash machine and putting it over in that nasty little corner of shame meant that I could secretly chip away at my future security without interruption.
Giving me a gold card was a clever move. You gaslighted me. You made me think you were doing this kind, virtuous, generous thing, but you knew. You knew you were the only one who was going to profit from it and you let me make a fool out of myself in the process. Well the joke's on you. I brought my own drink in Capri-Sun pouches. So there. I'm not proud of that either, but I need you to know you didn't get everything out of me.
Anyway, I should have been mature and explained this a long time ago. I'm sorry if you feel abandoned. Although, I've been keeping an eye on your social pages and it seems like you've found loads of new girls. I was jealous at the start. Now I'm OK with it. Please mind them and make sure they're safe. They put a lot of trust in you. I had some great times with you, Coppers. Let's keep it that way for your future flings.
Anyway, I better get back to my less fluorescent, less headachey life.
I see you've dipped your toe into settling down? You're open to daytime activities like lunch and coffee and jumping on the cleaner living buzz. I admire you for that and I wish you every success with it. Maybe I'll come by yours for that €5 lunch some day. You do know that chicken Kiev isn't healthy though, don't you? SORRY! I'll stop being negative. You're doing great, Coppers. May we never cross paths again.
As Adele says, 'I wish nothing but the best for you-u-u'.
PS: Any chance I could get those three jackets back? I called but you didn't answer. Even though it was Tuesday between 5-7.
We really don't want to make this one of those personal attacks, like the whole Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran thing, but we must admit, your letter did hurt. The way the whole relationship played out, left a bit of a sore taste in my mouth. Maybe, you just didn't realise how much we were into you.
Without trying to sound like an absolutely jock, yes we do get lots of girls. Sure there was other girls, too, but there was something about you Stefanie, you were different. You were the one we looked out for on the door every cold, wet night. With the reputation we have for getting all the girls, perhaps this made us lose sight of what we had. Just like Hozier said, 'You knew who I was, with every step that I ran to you.'
Having said all that, I think you may have miss-read our intentions. In your letter, you said that we 'gaslighted' you with our offer of a gold card. When, in truth, it was our desperate attempt to pin you down. Kind of like a proposal, if you will. We were never good at expressing our feelings, but this was merely an attempt to keep you in our life forever. But, you got away.
We're glad you noticed that we've grown since our last encounter. You're not doing so bad yourself! At least we can both agree on that, we're happy to see each other doing so well. I'm also glad to hear that you still think about us, because we never really forgot about you. Our feelings towards you, Stefanie, are not filled with hatred, but regret. What might have been?