A funny occurrence that ends in the worst lie I've ever told

Today i was scheduled to work at the Orem Arts Council tent at Orem Summerfest. I arrive, I get set up, the other people who i'm replacing at the table leave, and I get to working hard, manning the table. (It was grueling.) I've been at the table maybe five minutes when this guy and his friend kind sidle up to the table. I can already tell by the one guy's whole attitude that he means business--but not with the Arts Council. With me. I prepare myself for the inevitable awkwardness--but one not without its humor. So here goes: R (we'll call him R and I'll explain why later) comes up to the table.

"Hey!" he says as if I'm supposed to recognize him. Hi. What can I do for you? (Now I can't remember if he launched right into his pick-up lines of if he even attempted to feign interest in the Arts Council. But anyway...he goes on.) "Are you in college?" What?! I'm thinking. What kind of question is that? Oh! I get it. You want to make sure you aren't picking up on a high schooler. Admirable, but a little transparent, don't think, pal? I take about two seconds to decide what tone to adopt with this guy. He seems harmless enough, but potentially annoying. I decide on the "civil, but mono-syllabic" tone.

No, I reply simply. Not anymore.
"That's too bad," he says. He clearly thinks I've dropped out or something. I should have just left it at that, but at this point my sense of mischief is in full gear. I want to see if I can get this guy to actually come out with it and ask me if I'm dating anybody.
I graduated, I say. His ears perk up.
"When?" He asks, obviously still trying to determine my age (which, I know, is difficult for people who don't know me.)
April.
"Where from?"
BYU.
"Oh! I was going to school up there, too! That's probably where I've seen you around."
I scowl. Seriously? Low marks for creativity, pal. I shake my head. He senses that this tack isn't working, so he adopts a different one: He is suddenly all professional, detached interest in all the pamphlets at the booth. I know he doesn't care about any of this stuff, but I explain in as much detail as I can about ALL of it. I glance at his friend who, unlike himself, seems a little bit of a shady character who's missing a few teeth. Weird. He doesn't even feign interest in the stuff on the table, but patiently waits for his friend to wrap things up with me.

Meanwhile, R has taken one of the volunteer forms--and a free pencil--on the pretext of filling it out. "Oops," he says. "I was writing on the back." He flips it over, but before he does I can see that he has written one letter: R. Probably the first letter of his name, if I had a guess.
Wow. Does he really think I don't know that he's writing his name and number on the front of the form? Does he think he's going to take me pleasantly by surprise when he hands it to me with all of his contact info filled out and a big "Call me!" on the top? (He didn't, but I'll get to that in a minute.) Just at that moment, the gods intervene and the biggest wind/rain/lightning storm on planet Earth at that particular moment descends upon Orem, Utah. I simply cannot spare him another thought as we scramble to get everything under the tent. When we have finally done all we could do (which was not much in the face of such furious rain) I stand up to find this guy still hanging over my shoulder. Really? I think. Are you still here? The sky is falling--the tent, at least, is--all hell is breaking loose and you are taking this inauspicious moment to pay your addresses to me?! I'm thinking all of this inside.
"Listen," he says, making a clean breast of it. He's clasping the volunteer form anxiously in his hand. "Are you dating anyone?" he ask quietly and seriously.

Here's where I lie. I briefly contemplate telling him I'm married. But then, I'm wearing no ring, and my sense of fair play tells me I shouldn't go that far. (I think he would have ring-checked.) So, I just smile apologetically, and nod my head. I see him grip the piece of paper and it crumples a little. "Oh, okay, then. Er...do you remember the website for the Arts Council?" he asks. "Oh wait. It's here on the pencil, I guess." I nod again, still apologetic. Poor guy. He's desperately trying to backpeddle out of a blunder he could have easily avoided if a) he hadn't so clumsily picked up on a girl he knew nothing about, and b) if I--and I admit fault--hadn't tightened the noose by fibbing. Well, the tempest is in full swing by then, so R and his buddy take off at lightning speed (no pun intended) to some other tent to wait it out.

Phew. Perhaps I shouldn't have lied. Undoubtedly, I should not have. But I could think of no better, faster and surer expedient to get this guy away from me. He was clearly the persistent type. Let me clarify that I did nothing to lead him on. i didn't even smile at him--other than apologetically, that is. But this whole thing is the kind of thing that never happens to me, so I wanted to see where it would go. So, ok. it probably wasn't the worst lie I've ever told.

But oh! Would that it had not been a lie after all! For more reasons than one.