"Joanna, you've been single since birth, so you don't understand. You'll know when you're in a relationship."
"Thanks, but I'm not interested in marriage or kids."
"Down this bottle, and we'll still be friends."
"Cheers!"
...
After a few rounds, Tiffany and I were both a little drunk.
"Joanna."
"Yeah?"
"You're Adam's assistant, right? Can I ask you a few personal questions about him?"
"Go ahead."
"Do you think Adam washes his own socks?"
"Huh? I have no idea. Want me to ask?" I pulled out my phone and dialed his number.
"Hello?" A cool male voice answered.
"Mr. Smith, can I ask you a few personal questions? My friend is curious."
"Go ahead," he said.
"Do you wash your own underwear?"
He was speechless.
"Oh, is that too personal? Let me try another. Do you dislike women? Especially the ones with strong perfume? Or are you allergic to them?"
"No, but you're pretty annoying."
"Okay, next question. Do you have a stomach problem?"
"No."
"Mr. Smith, were you kidnapped as a child and saved by a little girl who became your first love?"
"Enough. I'm going to bed."
"Wait, Mr. Smith! You must have a young, handsome doctor friend, right? Can you send me his contact?"
He didn't reply.
"Hello? Mr. Smith, hello?" I looked at my phone. He hung up.
Tiffany hiccuped beside me. "Who's asking the questions here? Me or you?"
"Hey, besties share everything. Set the alarm for six. We'll shower and go to work tomorrow. Let's keep drinking."
"I hope you won't regret this when you sober up tomorrow," Tiffany muttered. She didn't even have time to stop me from making that call.
