So I'm 17 year old University student, the thing is, I don't look it. I'm 5' 11", broad shouldered and carry a look akin to Michael Pitt (Jimmy Darmody in Boardwalk Empire). This means I look old enough to be attractive to the 18-28 demographic, which lo and behold, is the demographic of women I encounter at University. This combination places me in a strange 'limbo' where even though I have the opportunity to approach, escalate and plate, I can't, and here's an example of why.

I meet this girl in one of my classes, a 23 year old slightly but endearingly chubby Environmental Studies major who has been intrigued by me since the beginning of semester. I flirt, get her to buy me lunch, apply some light kino and get her number, but throughout that encounter she's constantly trying to guess my age, she says around 20-21, I tell her to go with that. I call her up on thursday, arrange a date for friday night, meet up with her, again apply light kino and teasing, but yet she's still trying to get an age out of me. every time I ignore it, and every time she says that it doesn't matter and that there'll be no judgement ("age is just a number"), to which I call bullshit and ignore. Failing using words to cajole it out of me, she, someone who said was having a sober year, suggests we go to a bar.

Fuck, now I have to tell her, it's less catastrophic than getting a fine and getting kicked out of a bar. Of course, as soon as I tell her, she starts passing judgement, shit like "You're so mature for your age", "I can't believe I'm on a date with a 17 year old" and even "17 year olds shouldn't be doing this". I ignore them and pull her aside and begin making out, half because that's what I was there for and half to make her shut the fuck up.

Of course, as expected, she's reduced to giggles and incoherence (I'm starting to learn how mind numbingly simple women are, but that's another story), so we keep on walking and occasionally pausing to make out again, eventually finding a bench to sit on and continue escalating. Date time is up, I send on her on her way, relish the bent cigarette in my pocket and head home, all to wake up and do the same shit with a different girl the following day (an exposition for another time).

Lo and behold, I have this exchange. I don't even know where to begin, but what I think has happened is that her hamster didn't spin hard enough and her flatmates talked her out of it, which despite my best efforts was something I could foresee as soon as she mentioned them.

I guess it wouldn't be a woman if it wasn't a whole heap of emotional hoop jumping, would it? Now I have to apply dread game when I see her next, that is if I don't just soft next her on the spot purely for such a disappointingly obvious reaction.

Fuck, all women really, really are like that, this is just another example for the experience pile.