She got on the plane! Unlike Rachel from Friends, thank God, Belly did not let a man lure her away from her Parisian future. Even with Conrad sitting right there at the gate, Isabel Conklin followed through on her half-baked plan to fly to Paris in the middle of the night, and has suddenly become like 150 percent more likable, especially in juxtaposition to her new European friends, who all seem staunchly awful. To them, Belly’s brotherly ménàge-a-trois and altar-dumping story is interesting, sure, but no more selfish and reckless than Celine, for instance, who sleeps with married men as a hobby. The only thing that shocks this quartet of moral ambiguity is that Belly actually plans on going back home when she could just stay in Paris with them.

To be clear, I am a million percent on the side of Belly’s horrible new friends on this point. I know it seems nuts, but sometimes moving to a new city on a whim is exactly what a girl in her early twenties needs to grow up. (I’m speaking from personal experience, which I can tell you all about a different time. Plus, I can tell you definitively that leaving the country is the very best way to get over a breakup.) Suddenly, Belly has found herself alone in Paris without a dead Susannah to tell her what to do or a Fisher brother falling at her feet or a Dick Dad to pay the bills. What better baptism by fire for adulthood than French bureaucracy? This is good for her. Look, she’s already started going by “Isabel.” The growth is happening already. But obviously, not all at once.

I had been wondering if Belly bothered to contact her study abroad program before booking a last-minute flight to Paris because, well, this is a girl who didn’t Google the cost of a wedding cake before wandering into the bakery. And Belly is not exactly firing on all cylinders right now. To wit, for a semester-long stay in a foreign country, she has packed a single carry-on suitcase and one backpack, into which she has also stuffed her wedding dress. She has not given a single thought to her need for a visa, and she seems to have forgotten every French class she’s ever taken. She also imagined that, despite declining the study abroad spot months ago, she could simply roll up to the front desk and collect her class schedule, because seven hours earlier, Antonin had told her on the phone that there was room. She did not account for the possibility that Antonin is a bit of an idiot and was looking at last month’s spreadsheet when he told her this.

We now find Belly sobbing softly as she aimlessly rolls her sad, stupid suitcase across cobblestone sidewalks. On the phone, Laurel tells her just to come straight home and they’ll figure it all out (God damn it, Laurel). Luckily, Belly’s backpack gets swiped while she’s figuring out how to pay for a coffee in French, and it’s got an AirTag in it. She chases this backpack all over Paris on foot, by bus, and by metro, which is certainly one way to acquaint yourself with a city. Because Paris is a magical place, Belly’s pickpocket takes her backpack directly to a rave without even bothering to open it. Outside the club, Belly befriends a British girl by saving her from a creep, and in return, the British girl gets her into the club and introduces her to all of her friends. Plus, Belly gets to dispense a little American street justice on her wild-eyed would-be thief, so it’s all coming up Bells.

Belly might not have a job or a place to live or a legal right to stay in Paris, but she does have a ready-made group of friends and a nightmare of her own making back home. I wouldn’t get on the return flight either. And if she had any idea of how depressing it is back there, staying in Paris would not even be a question. Well, Taylor and Steven have gotten back together, and that’s happy for them, but I’m pretty sure that is a movie Belly has seen at least a hundred times before.

Jeremiah is drunk, angry, and sad. (“Wake me up if she comes back.”) Later, he is hungover, sad, and angry. (“Just don’t fucking call me again.”) What Jeremiah really needs right now is a hug, but Taylor and Steven are doing their best with tough love and diligently protecting him from his own phone. Jeremiah says Belly is his whole life, Taylor says that doesn’t sound super healthy, babe! Whatever, he’s going back to bed to weep into his camera roll of Belly photos.

Conrad is trapped in a prison of his own guilt and must be told to fuck off an additional four times. It’s like some spell. Hearing from Dick Dad about the aborted wedding, Conrad’s first thought is that Jeremiah needs him, which sets the curse in motion. It can only be undone if Conrad hears four fuck offs within 24 hours. First, Taylor tells him, “You are not what he needs right now.” Conrad nods, pretending to listen, then goes directly home to pick up some of Jeremiah’s clothes. Second, Steven tells him, “Leave him alone!” amidst other choice expletives and rebukes. Third, Conrad runs into Jeremiah himself in the kitchen. Belly has just told Jere that she plans to stay in Paris, so you can guess his mood. Jeremiah takes a deep breath and says, “You know what Conrad? I forgive you. You do belong with Belly, so go get her!” Just kidding, of course, he didn’t say that. That would be psychotic. Jeremiah still very much hates Conrad and happily tells him that Belly is staying in Paris, so they both got dumped basically. In summary, Jere wants Conrad to get the fuck out and never speak to him again. (That’s three.)

At the end of the day, who better than Dick Dad to teach Conrad the value of knowing where you aren’t wanted? Let me tell you, Dick Dad really came through today. Near the end of the episode, Conrad gives his father a full confession. Certainly a fuller confession than anything he’s said to Steven, Taylor, Jeremiah, or Belly. It’s all my fault, Conrad says. He broke Jeremiah, and the worst part is that this is what he wanted all along. He wanted Belly to call off the wedding. Dick Dad is like, Let me tell you a little something about being a dick who everyone hates. Sometimes the best thing you can do for a person is to give them space, and Dick Dad would know. The fourth fuck off is the charm, and this actually seems to resonate.

Of course, odds are good that Conrad decides to fuck off to Paris, which will do nothing to improve his relationship with his brother. Some of his other relationships, however…

Good Luck, Babe

• “Fuck it, let’s be assholes” is an excellent alternative title for this show.

• Jeremiah’s hangovers are particular and will only respond to red Gatorade.

• I cannot believe Dick Dad is the first person to hug Jeremiah all day.

• Steven and Taylor agree that they look positively functional in comparison to this triangle, and they’re correct.

• Still can’t believe we put Denise through all of that just to end exactly where we started, though.

• How is the name “Antonin” the only thing Belly can pronounce correctly in French?

• This show gets a lot of things wrong (why does it seem to be the same time in Paris as in Massachusetts, for instance), but the guy at Charles de Gaulle customs is painfully accurate.

 Belly, like any reasonable person in their early twenties, finds out the best thing to do after a breakup is to leave the country.