Age aint nothing but a number?

Last night, as I was chatting away to the lovely C, I saw my friend Big H waving in my direction and beckoning me over. He was talking to two girls, one of whom was a quite cute blonde girl. I saunter over and Big H tells me that the blonde girl is from where I grew up in Essex. We exchange where we are from, how near to each other our parents houses are, what schools we went to etc. The usual course of the conversation is to explore the 6 degrees of seperation theory and see how many people you jointly know. Obviously the best way to do this is gauge who they will know by how old they are. She tells me she is 18. Yes, twelve years younger than me. That was bad enough to start with but then she asked how old I was. Being an honest bloke, I told her I was 30. The look on her face stunned me. I am still not sure whether it was a look that said, "no way are you 30" which is good, or "why is a 30 year old in the same club as me...you sad git" which is tragic. At that moment a song came on that her friend liked and she was dragged off onto the dance floor. I felt a bit perturbed for a while by the look, then realised I didnt care enough to go over and ask her what the look meant. Not having eighteen year olds circulating in my social circle that often I am not sure of their opinion on age. Based on the look of shock she gave me, I don't think I want to know either!