How I Met Your Father

Son, 30 is a funny age.

It looks different on everyone.

Some 30-year-olds are the picture of maturity,

while others are way, way, way less grown up.

I was more in the latter group.

What up, my bitches?

- Honored to be one of your bitches.

- I'm not going to lie. This dress is Nip Slip City,

but I don't care. I had to level up

because Drew is taking me

to Bocca Partito tonight.

Bocca Partito!?

Dang, Drew! That's like a "no prices on the menu" restaurant.

Alright, I'm calling it now.

You are having the best birthday weekend ever.

You are snatched and sipping on some fancy wine

with Drew tonight to close out your 20s.

And then tomorrow, you turn 30,

and we will be drinking so many 40s,

you'll be hung over to your 50s.

- Speaking of, how's my party going, party planner?

- I'm crushing it. All you have to do

is show up to our apartment tomorrow night, dressed as Christina Aguilera

from the Dirrty video. Mm! Mm!

Wait, why?

Wait, did you not open my evite?

That's the theme of my party.

It's my favorite music video of all time.

It's so... dirty! - Dirty!

- Hey, Jess, this is going to be our first party together

since my birthday at Chuck E. Cheese.

Oh yeah. You turned 5.

Mom turned out to be boning Chuck.

- Wait, your mum cheated on your dad with a guy dressed as a mouse?

- No, no, no. Just some random guy from the neighborhood named Chuck.

No relation to Mr. E. Cheese.

And then she left our dad,

married him, and moved Ellen halfway across the country.

- But, tomorrow night, we're going to make up for lost time.

Yes, yes, we are. In fact,

maybe we can even hit on some girls together, you know?

The Walker siblings on the prowl?

Exactly!

Except that's not my last name. - What?

- I took Mom's last name after the divorce, remember?

- Right! The Gilbert-hyphen-Walkers on the prowl.

Siblings and wing people. One might call us wing sibs.

Ooh! Trademark!

- You can't call trademark. I just said it.

- Yeah, and you should also have said trademark.

Hey, Jasper.

How about a group shot for Sophie?

And pour yourself one, too.

Like I said, I was one kind of grown-up...

Shots! Shots! Shots!

...but Drew was another.

I was going to get a puppy,

but there's so many senior dogs who need homes.

You know, as soon as I saw Rue McClanahan's big brown eyes,

I... I melted.

Wait, did you name your senior dog

after one of the Golden Girls?

Oh, not just one of them. The best.

Blanche hive, rise up.

Uh, excuse me. Uh,

can we get a bottle of the 2016 Montepulciano, please?

He was a real adult.

And I was real into it.

- This should be a workout. Kegfit.

- Trademark! - Damn it!

- What is that hideous ring? Are you a youth group minister?

Man-- No! This is my man-gagement ring.

Trademark! Ha! Got it!

You can have it.

- Whatever. Isn't this gorgeous yet masculine?

This is pewter with real dinosaur bone inlay.

- You're not getting any bone or lay wearing that.

Hannah got that for you?

No, she hates it.

Sorry, I'm late.

I still can't figure out this dang MetroCard swipes,

so I walked here. Twenty-six blocks.

- Oh. Well look, the MetroCard swipe is easy.

You just gotta do it with confidence. Zing! Like that.

- Uh, no! Don't listen to him. You got to do it slow,

methodical like, uh!

You sound so stupid right now.

Obviously, it's a zing! Not an, uh!

- The "uh" works, man. - No.

Zing! Zing! Zing-- - Uh! Uh!

Shut the zing up!

So, tomorrow's a big night for us.

Mum always says a couple isn't a couple

until they attend a soirée arm-in-arm.

I was wondering, how should I refer to you at the party?

My boo?

My girlfriend?

Ooh! My wonderwall.

Interesting.

Look, Charlie,

things are going great between us,

but we haven't decided to be, like...

together together.

No, I know.

I guess I thought we're at least somewhat together.

You know. I did walk away from generational wealth

and move across an ocean to be with you.

And that was so sweet of you.

We definitely are somewhat together,

but we're also young and fun

and spontaneous.

Do I go home with you tomorrow night?

Maybe. Do I go home with Jeff Goldblum

and his hot yoga wife again?

Maybe.

Fine.

So, I can just canoodle with whomever I want, and you'll be fine with it.

- Exactly. I'm so glad you're on board. Mwah!

That's a no on girlfriend then.

- You live in Queens, right? - Mm-hmm.

- 'Cause, you know, the library in Astoria is...

Yeah, you know I'm tipsy when I start recommending libraries.

One more drink,

I'm going to start listing my favorite community gardens.

Um... Maybe we should call it a night.

- Really? Oh my god, I feel like we just sat down.

Me, too, but, um...

judging by their faces, we've been here a while.

I had a great time tonight.

Me, too.

A taxi guy, huh? Wow.

Very retro of you.

- Well, there's something magical about taxis in this city, you know?

The way you can just raise your arm and...

Damn.

This would've been so cool

if one showed up just right then.

When you tell this story of this date in the future,

just promise me you will change that part.

Whoops!

What makes you so sure

I'm going to tell the story of this date in the future?

Not sure. Just, um... hopeful.

Mm.

Now you show up?

Right now. Hi.

Hey, um, what are you doing tomorrow night?

Tomorrow? As in 24 hours from now?

Uh-- Yeah, I know.

You're not supposed to ask a girl out two nights in a row,

but, um, I like you, Sophie,

and I want to see you again.

But, if it's too soon...

No, it's not too soon.

It's just...

Tomorrow night's my birthday party.

I'm turning 30.

Do you want to stop by?

I'd love to.

What can I bring?

I've got a bottle of Sancerre,

or-or a nice Pouilly-Fuissé,

or, uh, maybe a Beaujolais Nouveau

to celebrate the nouveau decade of your life.

And that's when I realized

I had invited a classy-ass man

to a trashy-ass rager.

Go! Go! Go! Come on, Ellen!

Hold up!

We're gonna need to 180 this party stat.

- Okay! I know bobbing for apples in tequila is a little out there,

and sure, if you open your eyes, you can go blind.

- No, but what a way to go. - I'm up next!

Stop! No tequila bobbing, okay?

And we're going to need to get real cups.

Like, cups made of actual glass.

And we're going to need to get some real food.

Nothing flavored "nacho cheesier."

- Slow down! Did something happen on your date?

Did you get hit by another Citi Bike? Are you concussed?

No. No, my date was great.

Drew is-- is direct, and he's grown up.

He signals for the check like this.

But, I invited him to this party tomorrow,

so we're going to need to pivot. - Hold up!

You were all about Dirty 30,

but then Drew signaled for the check like my grandpa,

and now, you want to change this into some boring-ass,

mature person party at the last minute to impress him?

- Correct. - Okay--

Great. I'm so glad you understand.

I'm going to update the invite right now.

No more dirty dress code. Okay, classy cocktail attire.

Okay!

Keg number two has arrived.

Ooh, uh, don't hate me,

but could we do cocktails for the party instead?

- Ooh yes. I've been noodling with absinthe--

We're going to take that to the grave,

I Know What You Did Last Summer style.