I'm sixteen and literally look like a smooth twelve-year-old kid next to the guys in my swim club locker room. A girl from Discord keeps asking to hang out IRL, but I keep ghosting her because I'm terrified she'll think she's on a date with a middle schooler.

Deep breath: being a late bloomer is brutal—especially in a sport where everyone stands around in spandex—but your body isn't defective, it's just lagging behind the schedule. Genetics don't run on a shared calendar; plenty of guys don't hit their main growth spurt until seventeen or eighteen, only to shoot up overnight. Right now, you're viewing yourself through the warped mirror of a competitive locker room. But your Discord match doesn't know you as "the shortest guy on the swim team." She likes your humor, your banter, and your actual personality. Dodging her indefinitely is just inventing a rejection that hasn't even happened. Take the pressure off and defuse the elephant in the room beforehand. Suggest a quick, casual meetup—boba or coffee, nothing fancy—and give her a playful heads-up: *"Fair warning before Saturday: I'm sixteen, but my genetics are taking the scenic route, so I've got terminal baby face."* If she’s cool, she’ll laugh it off and just be excited to see you. And if she’s shallow enough to bail over delayed body hair, you just saved yourself from wasting another month overthinking.