Rachel: Thanks for dinner.
Joey: I thought you paid. Huh. Guess we won't be going back there.

Joey: Hey, what do you say we move this onto the likes of the couch?
Rachel: I say cheesy line, but okay.

Monica: No, no. Don't get it. Let the machine pick up.
Phoebe: Yeah, it could be Rachel asking if someone could babysit again.
Monica: It could be Amanda.
Phoebe: Oh, you're right. I was just kidding about Rachel. Babysitting's a gas.

Joey: I blame your bra.
Rachel: It's a standard-issue bra clasp.
Joey: Well, then I blame you. Yeah. That's right. You threw me off with all your slapping.

Joey: Hey, Chandler, can I talk to you for a second?
Rachel: No need, problem solved. We are powering through.

Monica: Chandler, stop. It's not going to pop open.
Chandler: You don't know.

Monica: We are not friends with Phoebe anymore.
Chandler: If she asks, I protested a little, but okay.

Joey: And so we'll just keep trying and trying until we do it.
Rachel: And if it doesn't work, we'll just be one of those couples that never has sex.
Joey: That's a plan.

Rachel: Well, I'm going to bed.
Joey: Yeah, me too. [groans] Yeah, I'm not going anywhere for a while.

Joey: First, I look deep into her eyes, then I kiss her. Next, I take my hand and I softly graze her thigh.
Chandler: You mean like this?
Joey: No, not like that. No, no. No, like this.
Chandler: I see what you mean. That's quite nice.
Joey: More foosball?
Chandler: And beer.