Character Development Amongst the Young
Sometimes people ask me why I’ve had so much… erm, trouble… with Australian men. Tonight I learned it’s because they start them so incredibly young.
I was at a cheerful party tonight, when we realized that some of the guests were both a) uninvited and b) well under legal age. Two boys, both about sixteen, had infiltrated our highly mature get together. I was wearing lycra biking pants, which is how you know maturity was the standard.
Someone, and I’m not saying it definitely wasn’t me, remarked that their nights would be absolutely amazing if one amongst us smooched the woefully young. It was not me, and - lest ye judge - ponder how fucking rock star you would have felt pashing a 30-year-old in your tender youth.
It was apparently a bit more than they could handle.
I decided to have a chat to the boys, primarily to figure out if they were the impossibly young ages they seemed. And also to try to get the perhaps fatally unnecessary drink off the one slumping against the doorframe. Whilst they claimed to be 16, the slumping/giggling one seemed a might younger. I asked for ID. I was presented with a 20c piece, a smirk and an expectant look by his friend.
This did not go over as well as the young man imagined it might. From his stammering apology well after the fact, he may have taken to heart the dressing down the coin in my hand had surely warranted.
Way to blow the brass ring, mate. Few teenagers are tolerated, yet alone smooched during a party at which all the alcohol was purchased legally.
They were made to leave almost immediately - with Ruth hilariously marching up to them and asking, ‘Do you know who I am?’ before kicking them out.
They tried to make nice far later in the evening - well, I’m going to assume the slumpy one had no idea where he was. They announced that someone’s taxi had arrived, leaving us to wonder who Tim was and also why these boys were still lurking near the front gate. I went out the front to break the bad fare news to the taxi driver, and was presented with a newly shy Slumpy’s Friend. He apologized to me, arguing that he thought he was handing me his ID.
I know I often mistake a 2×3 card for a coin, so I shook his hand and denied his request to come back inside the party.
Sixteen at best. And you guys wonder why I don’t date more…
Sphere: Related Content
March 3rd, 2008 at 11:09 am
oh my god, this made me laugh. where was i during all these shenanigans?
March 3rd, 2008 at 2:38 pm
That’s it. I’m coming back. Nobody told me there would be 16 year olds.
March 3rd, 2008 at 6:19 pm
I think you’d left, Sara. And Sam, I believe you already had your sixteen year old.
I feel I should add that my statement about possibly not being the one to suggest it is accurate. I mean, it sounds like me, but I don’t think anyone really remembers whose fabulous idea that was. The conversation kind of snowballed.