It's a big ask

It's pretty obvious that the opportunities to fall in love, and act on those strange feelings are extremely limited for pubescent halflings. The fact that you have to live at home, have little or no disposable income, are basically dependent on parents for pretty much everything and getting from A to B is entirely reliant on public transport, cycle power or walking, can make it very difficult to invite girls out on dates. Well, that and the minor detail that, of all the things you would rather have to endure, asking a girl out is slightly less inviting than being dacked in front of the entire school assembly.

Of course it's not the actual task itself that brings the fear. The simple act of asking a girl you like if she would be interested in spending some of her time with you is not in the least bit taxing or strenuous. It's the possible responses that chill the blood, dry the throat and scramble the brain. Oh, yes, there are those who will tell you all through your life "The worst that can happen is she will say 'No'". These people are WRONG!!!!!!! Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. People who tell you that is the worst that can happen have no imagination. They clearly have not given any real thought to how much worse things could be than someone just saying 'No'.

The best thing that could happen, clearly, is that she will say 'yes'. The second best thing that can happen is she could say 'No'. Then we start the long downhill slide into blackness and despair, toward the 'worst thing that could happen'. The next thing on the list of worse outcomes is she could just stare blankly. This suggests she is incredulous you even asked her. She can't even believe you, of all people, would even consider asking her, a far better class of person, on a date. Of course, she may actually have a secret crush on you and have been hoping you would ask her out, and the shock of actualisation renders her speechless. But you're a thirteen year old boy, you will assume it's a bad sign.

Next stop on the train of rejection is the laugh. Rather than respond with a simple answer, or even an awkward silence, she could laugh at you. And not a friendly giggle as if she had just remembered an amusing episode of Happy Days, a real laugh, that escapes when you see someone do something incredibly stupid, or embarrassing. The kind of laugh that leaves you wondering what on earth made you think of even approaching this girl. A laugh that makes you realise for the first time that you are quite simply the most ridiculous looking male ever to have walked the earth, and that you would definitely die alone. Of course, I have never even seen this happen, but the hormone addled mind of a thirteen year old boy would have him believe this at least as likely as the sun coming up every morning.

The train now runs express to public embarrassment. Because in the "worst case scenario" of a young boys mind, she could not only laugh, but immediately find a friend to relate the story to. Which, of course, she will find equally hilarious, and continue to spread the sorry tale throughout the grapevine until all around are sniggers behind hands, knowing sad looks from other rejects, and mid-class smartarse remarks every time there is any attention focussed on you, the hapless romantic. This may get even worse, with first the cleaners, tipped off by some particularly detailed graffiti begin to give you knowing looks and shaking their heads. Then, the teachers become aware of the outrageous proposition you have laid before this poor, innocent girl, who is clearly far too good for you. In the end, of course, they have no choice but to inform your hardworking and loving parents of your unacceptable schoolyard behaviour, which results, when taken along with your increasingly poor academic performance, in expulsion from school. This downward spiral of rejection inevitably leads to the only career path available to one so hopeless: a night shift job pasting on loose labels in the packing room at the pickle factory. And this is where you live your final days, before being crushed by a reversing vinegar tanker when your hearing aid goes on the fritz.

The combination of hormonally triggered mental imbalance, a spastically erratic libido, and a vivid imagination are a cruel threesome to inflict upon a growing lad.