So here I am, back at Club Noir, buying Sloane drinks because we decided a long time ago that post-break-up drinks would never be paid for by the one who just had her time wasted by a man. Over the years, I’ve been the one consistently on the receiving end of this rule, putting a dent in Sloane’s bank account with round after round of tequila, never once considering that there would come a day when I’d get to repay my debt to her.
