— So, isn't he a bit young?

— Who?

— Garrett[1].

— Young for what?

— For you.

— Well, it's not like if I was planning to date him.

— But you do have a date with him.

— I don't. What are you talking about?

— Guy stops by, chats a minute, puts up a bored face so as not to look too eager, asks whether you want to go for a beer sometime, you say yes and decide on a day and time, and you tell me you don't have a date. How clueless do you think I am?

— Oh. Maybe less than me?

(It's not a date. I think.)

Notes

[1] Not his real name, of course.