His Excuse Of “She Was Wearing Makeup” Doesn’t Dance With Us

(In my teens, I used to dance competitively. If you’ve ever been to a dance competition, you know that even the young kids have to wear a LOT of stage makeup. This happens right after a competition day. My family has taken me to a restaurant for dinner to celebrate my new medals. I’m tired and sweaty, not all of my makeup would come off, and the waiting area is standing-room-only, so with my parents’ permission, I step out to a bench directly outside the waiting area. It’s a cool night, so I sprawl out on the bench and am soaking in the cool breeze when I hear voices nearby. I sit up and see some guys around eighteen or nineteen pointing at me and nudging each other. Before I can really ascertain what they are doing, one of them comes over to sit next to me.)

Guy: “Hey there. What are you doing here all alone?”

Me: *immediately flashing back to school warnings of strangers in white vans offering candy* “U-um… my parents are right in there!”

Guy: “Ugh, parents, right?”

Me: *visible confusion* “Um… yeah?”

Guy: “So, are you from around here?”

(The conversation continues for a few minutes with me giving vague, confused answers while the guy’s buddies stand around snickering at their friend apparently getting nowhere. I still haven’t figured out what’s going on, but then…)

Guy: “You’re kind of young, aren’t you? How old are you?”

Me: *honestly* “Th-thirteen…”

Guy: *jumping off the bench like it is white-hot* “WHOA! Okay! You have a great night, hon! Uh… call me in like… five years!”

(He bolted, his friends following after howling with laughter. I uneasily returned inside. My mom nearly had a heart attack when I recounted the exchange to her. Somehow she managed to miss the whole thing, even though I was within line-of-sight!)