This was a pretty boring episode of The Summer I Turned Pretty, but I don’t even care, because Belly — excuse me, I mean Isabel — is very close to living out the Parisian life I have been envisioning for her. Assuming Conrad doesn’t come to blow it all up, again.

There is Serge Gainsbourg’s “La Javanaise,” which will be immediately recognizable to anyone who has ever had a French boyfriend. There is Canal Saint-Martin. There’s even a rude girl named Manon. It does take Belly a while to get in touch with the magic of the place, though. A few months in, and her French has barely improved, her roommates are gross and rude, and she has to work two jobs under the table to make rent. She’s also making the entire United States of America look bad by insisting on making Stove Top stuffing for Thanksgiving. That is our special thing as Americans, and no European mind will ever comprehend that, Belly. You should have just made them gravy because that is at least something they all understand.

Except for things like struggling to purchase a single apple at the supermarket (really, you needed no other groceries?), most of Belly’s problems are of the basic early-adulthood variety. But she is finally wise enough not to let her “wild yearning” for home get in the way of what should be a transformative life experience. This is an aside, but one does not have a “wild yearning” for home. One has a “wild yearning” for sailing across the ocean, or moving to Barcelona, or becoming an astronaut. Yearning for home is just called yearning. Belly decides she will stay in Paris for Christmas, even if it means celebrating by herself with a bottle of red and chocolates. But this is Belly we’re talking about. By this point, her prettiness has become so powerful that she’s already charmed her non-European friend Benito without realizing it. Luckily, you don’t actually have to be European to do European shit like roll up to a café on a moped and say things like, “There is beauty in emptiness.” Belly jokes that he’s a pretentious nerd who’s going to wander the streets reciting Baudelaire, and he’s like, “Okay, bet.” Here’s a bit of Pablo Neruda for ya. God, even in Spanish, the references in this show could not be more on the nose: “I loved her. And sometimes she loved me too.”

From here on out, Belly’s experience in Paris becomes much more delightful. Taylor, dressed in full wardrobe as an Emily in Paris extra, comes to visit for New Year’s Eve and encourages her friend to go for it with her “Sexy Latino Chalamet,” which she does, despite Conrad’s box of emotional manipulation. (More on that later.) Before you know it, Belly is fluent in French and has come to accept gross roommates as a part of life. Ope, spoke too soon, because Gemma has just offered Belly her enormous Haussmann apartment with the view of Sacré Coeur. Her relationship with Benito is going so well that he’s invited her to his grandmother’s birthday party in Mexico. He jokes he’s not going to propose to her in front of his whole family, but this is the kind of shit that happens to Belly. Her birthday rolls around and suddenly, in addition to the gorgeous apartment and gorgeous boyfriend, she has a plan to take graduate classes at the Sorbonne and a potential job lined up for when she’s finished. She’s also acquired a classic red lip and, I’m assuming, is about to give herself a fuck-ass bob, completing her transformation into Isabel, American expat with a salacious backstory.

Personally, I see very little reason to continue checking in on the Fisher boys when Belly is away in Paris. Their entire lives as we know them are centered around this one woman, so shouldn’t they, like, deactivate when she’s no longer in their field of vision? Tragically, no. Back in the States, they are both dealing with their post-Belly depression in their signature styles. Jeremiah is slutting it up with Steven’s colleagues and Taylor’s friends and generally embracing life as a once-and-future deadbeat. That’s it, son, I’m cutting you off, declares Dick Dad at Friendsgiving, which he has inexplicably decided to crash. Jeremiah has been kind of an asshole to everyone all evening, mostly about mashed potatoes. Why are we having a fit about potato ricers versus hand mixers, Jere? Are slightly gluey potatoes worth losing your rent-free room in Steven’s apartment? Are they worth Taylor’s feelings? I wonder what Jeremiah would say if he knew that at that very moment, Belly was using his name to justify serving French people off-brand Stove Top stuffing. In any case, now Jeremiah has to trade a rent-free room at Steven’s apartment for a rent-free room at Denise’s, but clearly, being broke does wonders for the spirit. Turns out all Jeremiah really needed to improve his attitude was to experience life as a plebe. To a point, that is, because one month is not enough time for him to forgive Conrad.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Belly comes by her sense of delusion naturally, because in what world did Laurel think Conrad and Jeremiah were going to enjoy a happy family Christmas together in Cousins, the sight of all of their greatest traumas? Mind you, until Belly decided to spend Christmas in Paris, Laurel was fully intending on gathering all three of them together, along with her semi-ex-husband John and Dick Dad, whom she must have assumed was going to bring Kayleigh, a.k.a. “the mistress.” How exactly did she think this was going to go? Because she really couldn’t have hoped for better than she got. Jeremiah doesn’t even get out of the car, so there is no scene or bloodshed, and she gets gochujang-roasted carrots and an apology out of the deal to boot. By New Year’s, Jeremiah’s therapeutic line-cooking job has cured him enough to call Belly from the kitchen and assure her that he’s okay and she’s free to move on with her life.

And what has Conrad been doing all year? Well, he’s been thinking about Belly, thinking about contacting Belly, writing Belly multiple unanswered letters on a yellow legal pad, and sending her a box of emotional keepsakes to make extra-triple sure she is also thinking about him. And what does Belly write to Conrad in return? She writes, “It’s sweet of you to think of me.” She might as well have written, “I have a lot of love for you, Conrad.” She does not write, “I miss you, Con” or “I’ve been thinking about you, too, Con.” Were I in Conrad’s position, this note would send me into an anxiety spiral the likes of which we haven’t seen since Belly’s bachelorette party. But not Conrad. He keeps the postcard in his wallet and plots their romantic reunion.

I would like to have a word with Conrad’s therapist, actually. Because Conrad has done a great job of analyzing all of Jeremiah’s unhealthy attempts to cling to Belly, but less so for his own. On the anniversary of Susannah’s death, Conrad and Jeremiah bump into one another at Susannah’s grave, where they have both come to pay respects. Jeremiah outright accuses Conrad of stealing Belly from him. Conrad, correctly, tells Jeremiah that a person cannot be stolen because a person is not an object. Conrad is also right when he says Jeremiah wanted to marry Belly so he could keep her. Yes! All very astute observations! What he then fails to do is apply all of that sound logic to his own situation. Belly lives in Paris now, and she has made no attempt to keep in contact with Conrad whatsoever aside from giving him her address. She signs the note, “Hope you are well.” Hope you are well! He wonders out loud if he should take that as a hint, but of course he doesn’t. Conrad struggles with even very large signals, like: She’s marrying his brother.

When he books his flight to Paris, Conrad does not consider the fact that Belly might be shacking up with a guy called Benito right now, or that showing up unannounced might interrupt the delicate order of operations that will eventually lead Belly back into Conrad’s arms. (We’re all in agreement that Benito is an interim lover, right?) Laurel could have told him that Belly has a whole future planned for herself in Paris that doesn’t currently include him. Hell, he could have just set himself up in Brussels — the very convenient location of this conference he was invited on — and then sent her a note that he’s just a train ride away if she wants to get coffee or something. But our Conrad does love an entrance, doesn’t he?

Good Luck, Babe

• Kayleigh appears to have gone the way of Anika, lost to a production budget that had to squeeze in “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” and multiple days of on-location Paris shoots.

• Yeah, I don’t know what Belly’s international phone plan is, either. Maybe Dick Dad is paying for it.

• I assume the impending Jeremiah-Denise romance is the reason we’ve been stringing poor Big D along for this entire season. That’s cute and all, but what a waste.

• Serious question: What kind of under-the-table work is Belly doing that she can afford this kind of rent? Is it the mob? Is she working for the Taken people?

• In our one flashback, Susannah lounges on the sofa while watching child Belly do a puzzle and planning her European future like Aunt March crossed with the grandmother in Gigi. “The girl will go to Europe and become a part of society,” she seems to be saying. “She shall make a good match there if she does not secure one of my sons.”

• Of all the unbelievable things on this show, Jeremiah giving his tacit blessing for Conrad to get back together with Belly is the one I believe the least.

 Belly learns French, gets a new boyfriend, and lives her best Emily in Paris life.