Digiorno Pizzeria Primo Pepperoni
For those looking for a way to “class up” their usual Digiorno’s experience, Digiorno’s Pizzeria has the solution for you.Â
The image on the box looks truly enticing, with a more appealing pie than Digiorno’s typical puffed-up crust monstrosity. You find this “Pizzeria” pizza to be slightly more expensive than your original-flavor Digiorno’s, but the slight increase in price comes with the benefit of a big boost to overall taste.Â
Staying in with a frozen pizza sounds pretty good right now.
But instead, here I am at a restaurant ordering a double whiskey as quickly as humanly possible. It’s my first drink of the night, and thankfully, it won’t be the last.
I mean... it makes sense that he would be here; he’s my brother’s father, after all. Still, this situation is...less than ideal for me.Â
Everyone at the table is involved in their own conversations, but I’m content staying out of it, sipping on my whiskey and making small talk with the waitress who looks alarmingly like a porn star that people will pretend they don’t know, but they totally do. The most comfortable place for me right now is staying firmly inside my head, but unfortunately, the reality of the situation sets in fairly quickly.
It’s my brother’s bachelor party, and I’m sitting across from the man who used to hit my mom.
Like I said, this situation is less than ideal.
Sitting in silence and barely acknowledging each other’s presence would have been the best-case scenario for this night. This strategy has worked pretty well for the past 15 years or so. That fantasy was shot down roughly one hour into the night when he “wanted to ask me something.”
“Are we...cool?”
Did the man who slugged my mom because she “spent too much on makeup” one time really ask me that?
Luckily he repeated the insane question for me.
White-knuckling my glass, I was at a total loss for words, so I employed my favorite conversational tactic: staying completely silent and letting the other person talk. It’s an incredible trick. You should try it.
He hesitantly continued, “You know, it was a long time ago, and I’m not a perfect man...”
No fucking shit.
“The thing is, when you’re part of a blended family...”
What? No. Stop. Stop talking.
“I just want you to know that you were a great child. A wonderful child...”
Gee, thanks. Means a lot. Asshole.
He kept talking as I looked at my brother for an out from this nightmare, and he shrugged apologetically. I can’t blame him. It’s his dad, and he was too young to really remember anything that had happened. We didn’t really talk about it.Â
It’s a beautiful Saturday night, and, technically, I’m sharing a drink with a man that I absolutely despise for completely justifiable reasons. This is deeply upsetting.
At this point, I have a couple of options. The most appealing option was taking my glass and fast-balling it upside his head. Then maybe he could be the one nursing a black eye.
I thought about walking away and bailing on the night. On any other night, this would have been my first choice, but it was my brother’s bachelor party. I was attempting to be a good brother. As much as it was destroying me inside.
The choice I eventually settled on was far less satisfying.
I said “Ok.”
“Ok?”
“Ok.”
Every part of me wanted to unload the wealth of rage I had been accumulating over the years. I wanted to verbally decimate him. For me. For my mom. For anyone else who gets home from school one day to find their mom with an ice pack on their face because they “ran into a door.”
But this man sitting across from me, rambling on about the past and blended families, was just a man. Weak, fallible, definitely drunk, kind of sad, and desperate for any kind of closure. We hadn’t talked in years, there was really no reason to. I tried not to think too much about anything that had happened, and after a while, successfully went on living my life. This had been consuming him for YEARS. His halfhearted attempt at an apology was probably something he had to roll around in his head for ages. I took some satisfaction from that.Â
“So, are we fine?”
No. We’ll never be fine. Nothing about this is fine.Â
I look at my brother again, and he’s talking to one of his friends with a smile on his face. He’s wearing a cheap top hat that signifies that he’s the bachelor. The Bacardi and Coke in his hand is nearly finished, and he looks ready to have another. He’s having fun, and we don’t really get to hang out too often. This is a really nice moment for him, and for me too. He’s really been looking forward to this.
So I turn to my brother, and say the only thing that feels right after this nightmare.
“Let’s get drunk.”
Digiorno Pizzeria Primo Pepperoni-4.0/5











