Get their number

You make your way into the bowels of the arena. Having been a very visible part of the show, nobody bothers to question you.

You find your way to the clown quarters and hang out inconspicuously. Soon the roar from the stands overhead dies down and the clowns file in.

You knock on the door. "Come in," says a voice and you do so.

Your clown is there, among their peers. "Oh hey," they say, "Thought I might see you again."

They take off their giant red clown wig, which turns out to be a helmet in disguise. Underneath is an identical giant red clown wig which poofs out as soon as it's released.

"I wanted to thank you for your help tonight," you say. "I would have been roadkill without you."

"Dirtkill," they say automatically, then hold out their hand. "I'm Bozo Nineteen. What's your name?"

You take the hand, gritting your teeth as the buzzer hidden in the clown's hand blasts your nervous system. "Bozo Nineteen?" you ask, changing the subject.

Bozo Nineteen shrugs. "All the good names were taken," they explain.

"Can I get your number?" you ask impulsively.

"Nineteen," they say, "I just said."

"No," you explain, "I mean like, your phone number. Or ICQ number, or social security number, or whatever. I just met you, but, I already feel like I never want to lose you."

"Oh, Honey," Bozo Nineteen says, guessing your name wrong, "No, you don't want this. It's like the old saying, 'Never with a clown.'"

"Never with a clown?" you repeat.

"Never." says Bozo Nineteen, as serious as a clown gently rejecting a groupie.

This was a very vulnerable thing you just did. How do you deal with the rejection?