N texted: come for happy hour. Great! Just what my liver was asking for. It was a new restaurant, and the food was tasty she said. So, off I went. How could I refuse happy hour and food? Indeed the restaurant’s food was good. The chicken satay was tinged with curry and peanut; it was delightful. Poor B didn’t get to eat much because we kept stealing them from him.

I wore my “Natasha” outfit, and N was amused. Even just for friends, no harm in dressing for the occasion, or life would be drab. We have to live, so we might as live it. The bartender was cute and sweet. He was new to bartending. After a bit of corrupting from N and me, I imagined him shaking the drinks and stirring up the customers. We tormented the bartender with special requests. Well, I behaved but N was causing trouble—in a lovable way, of course.

As we sat, N was up and about. She was like that. When I met her, I felt like that I met my twin that was separated at birth. Both of us are energetic and sociable. Like bees, we could run around with frenzy and kick up a notch. Both of us can drink, but N can outdo me—my kind of a girl. If you are worried about your liver, you need to stay away from N. Seeing my glass almost empty, she asked, “More drink?” I had to smile. How could I not? She is just so cute. She was too much. Not only can she drink, but she will also make any woman seethe with jealousy. She is slim and lovely but can eat like a horse. I observed her closely to discover her secret, but no, she was just born with fantastic genes. Don’t you just hate that? If I were a man, I would fall in love with her. I’m sure that many men find her attractive. You say that she is married? No worries. Accidents do happen (just kidding).

If you saw us at a party, we would flit around the people and then find each other to touch base with a smile and then flit back around again. Round and round, we will go. I will say, “Where were you all my life, my twin?” We are like two twirls of tornados that would inundate others with our crazy energies. One tornado is enough, but to have two can be too much you say? Heck no! Two is always better than one. You need two to tango. Why not two for happy hours? I am in N’s life so that I can take over one corner of the happy hour while she handles the other corner. With her twin around, she will have more time to drink and eat, and that may keep her livelier than ever. The happy hour will stay happy indeed.

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