Some time in year seven I needed to get new school shoes. My mother wasn’t in a great mood because she had told me that we were going shoe shopping after school and I decided to stuff around with my neighbour on our walk home. My neighbour tagged along with us to the shops, which probably annoyed my mother a little bit more because she didn’t need two distracted thirteen year olds who would rather be looking at clothes than boring school shoes.
The sales-assistant at the shoe shop was probably about eighteen and I decided he was really cute. I wanted to impress my neighbour, who was very confident around guys so I decided to try my hand at flirting. I sat down on a chair smiling as he brought various shoes over to me. He measured my feet and then he asked my age, which he probably did to figure out if my feet had much more growing to do but I took this as my opportunity to act “cute”. CRINGE.
“How old are you?”, He asked. I looked at my friend and my mother with a cheeky and vague grin. “How old am I?”, I asked them. I wanted to act as if this charming guy had taken my breath away so much that I was at a loss for words. I wanted him to think that I was adorably sweet because I was so awkwardly in love with him that I couldn’t even remember my own age. My mother and my neighbour didn’t know this though and they both looked at me like I was an idiot. “She’s thirteen!”, they told him. I was so embarrassed. I was thirteen but the sales-assistant, my mother and my friend looked at me like I was about five years old. I felt like such a baby.
Sadly my flirting hasn’t improved much since!