Dumb Questions To Ask People Novels & Stories

Then… She finally speaks, “Damien. Can I ask you about yourself in a personal manner?” I like that she leads with saying my name as if she likes the way it sounds. I set my whiskey down without taking a sip yet. My fingers slowly uncurl from the glass. Personal questions… Most people don’t ask me anything about myself that isn’t related to them gaining something. They inquire about investments or business expansions then pry for connections to other elites. But never anything about who I am. No one ever cared enough to wonder. For less than a full second, I’m caught off guard and something raw flickers behind my expression. Not quite vulnerability, but surprise that this gorgeous woman wants

"No, I have asked 5." "Well, it feels like 100." "Because my questions make sense, you exhausted yours with stupid questions." Questions like; Have you ever thought of going blonde? What do you think about pizza? Do you smell your feet?. "I haven't exhausted my question, I have 2 more questions left." "How do you feel about death?" I asked. "Geez, are you trying to make me sad or what?" "Just answer, Creep." "Inevitable." I waited for him to add more to the known word.

We're also going to record the conversations as an extra precaution. I take a seat at the table where the first girl is ready to answer my questions. There aren't many questions to ask and most are the bare basics, name, age, where they came from and are their parents here. Some are a little harder but no one will be forced to answer anything and we are hoping that any questions the younger children can't answer that the older women will be able to help us out with.

Sir Hans asked, pointing to the young lady in front of him. "I am (random/name or r/n) and I was wondering whether you were single, sir?" r/n asked, and Sir Hans' expression turned gloomy. "Next question!" Sir Hans exclaimed, as a young lady spoke forward. "Sir, I just wanted to ask you a question," the girl said. "And what exactly is it?" Sir Hans inquires. "I just want to ask if you are smart, sir?" The girl asks, and everyone in my class laughs, except for me, Sir Hans, and this sleepy guy next to me.

“Always so cocky, huh?” “Like I will always say, it's called confidence,” Dominique smirks as he says. “Alright. Twenty Questions. Who asks and who answers?” “We'll take rounds. You'll ask, I'll answer. And then I'll ask, you'll answer. Honest answers only.” “Great. You go first.” I say, dropping the sucked lemon slice on the coaster as I take small sips from my drink through the little straw. “Give me a short bio about you.”

You can start there. I nod slowly. “Finally, someone who makes sense.” Me: I’ll try this. Thanks. I exit the forum, then immediately type: ‘Random fun questions to ask a friend about themselves.’ Enter. My screen floods with suggestions, lists of icebreakers, “cute couple” quizzes, whole threads about date ideas, random memes sprinkled in. I scroll. And scroll. And scroll. “Oh. That’s actually a good question. I’ll keep that.” Next scroll. “That’s funny… but if I ask it, will I sound weird?”

"I don't date, but it doesn't mean I don't know how." Oh. So, he knows? I suddenly got curious. "So...what do people do at dates?" "They...eat and ask each other questions, talk about life." I felt that Dom wasn't so sure about his answer, because he looked up a bit at the ceiling, like he's thinking. "What questions?" His expression turned dark. "You don't need to know." "Why? I think I should know," I got even more confused about the concept of dating. Dating in books seem unclear. Maybe it's more complicated in real life?

What's wrong with asking what I just asked? I don't know, it's just so weird. I don't think I'd be telling someone I just met if there was any good news or bad news about my travels. " "You know, it's called conversing, miss. You should try it." "What if I'm not in the mood?"

he stutters, clearly thrown off by my answer. “It’s okay, most people don’t know how to respond. So, what kind of hobbies do you have?” I ask, expecting a long list of boating, mountain climbing, rafting, ect. Instead, I’m hit with a whole lot of silence. “Do you have any?” I chuckle. “I don’t think it should be this difficult to come up with something.” “How about you go first? What do you like to do?” he replies, daring me to do better.

He screams through tears. I roll my eyes and kick his leg. “I didn’t ask for your backstory, moron.” Sometimes I wonder why people are so damn adamant to talk to me. The questions, of the questions; they never stop. Who are you? How did you get inside my house? Why are you doing this? Where are you taking me? Why are we going to the basement? What are you going to do with that spoon? Shit, they’re so predictable.