Claire: He showed up drunk and sobbed at the table. About his ex.
Minnie: He WHAT??
Claire: I called him an Uber after twenty minutes and told him to pick up his socks.
Minnie: His socks?
Claire: Long story.
Minnie: OH NO! Okay, I’ll confer with Miles. We’ll do better next time.
Claire: See screenshot of above text with NEVER AGAIN circled in red.
Minnie: Ignoring you.
I’m really bummed you didn’t get to do the walking pizza tour.
Claire: Oh no, I did the tour.
I went back inside, and everyone at the table applauded me for handling a bad first date like a boss.
Minnie: Yoooo! Go Mom!
Claire: And we all swapped bad first date stories and bad breakup stories, and it ended up being a really fun day.
I got to walk around downtown Chicago and made some notes about things I want to come back and see later.
WITHOUT A DATE.
Minnie: So what’s the verdict on the pizza?
Claire: Oh. Deep dish all the way.
Minnie: That’s the correct choice.
We’ll eat it together when I’m back from England.
Claire: Can’t wait. Xoxo
Chapter 11
Sunday morning, I try to sleep in.
But the loud knocking on my door won’t let me.
I throw off the covers, pull on a giant oversized Colorado State hoodie over my shorts, plod downstairs, open the door, and glare at Miles.
His eyes go wide. “I can’t believe you didn’t call and give me the first date breakdown. I waited up.”
I groan and walk over to the kitchen. I start a pot of coffee and pull out the lemon blueberry streusel cake I baked yesterday after I got home from my ill-fated date.
A few hours later, I got a message from Roger on the app. It was a photo of him on the couch, holding a pint of ice cream in one hand and making a thumbs-up with the other, and it made me smile.
It gave me a great first date horror story, and in the end, maybe some good will come of it. Maybe Roger will start to heal.
After I returned to the group, I found myself making excuses for poor Roger. After all, I’ve made some pretty stupid public mistakes myself. We all agreed to cut him a little slack, then a woman named Trish told the entire group her worst breakup horror story. Which led to a guy named Mike sharing his story on the way to the next pizza place, and by the time the tour ended, we’d all chimed in.
I even shared the fountain story—but left out the night of the silver sequins. Some wounds are still a little too raw. Somehow, it brought us all together.
