Taylor
Originally this blind date started out as me nominating a friend [Emma], but that was short-lived when a Six60 concert became the priority [Editor: Six60 was the night after; Critic senses ulterior motives], leaving the blind date in the lurch and my own plan backfiring. Thinking it would be poor form to stand some poor guy up, I took it upon myself to keep up our end of the bargain, even if it killed me.Arriving at the venue, it took me all of three seconds to realise who the date was. With sweating palms and Ed Sheeran as his celebrity lookalike, we took to our table where the drinks could not come fast enough. During this time, the blind date and I realised we had some mutual ground as we both attended the same school, but sadly this was to be the last of our similarities.
I think this date went downhill after proclaiming he was a “foodie” and not knowing what a terrine is. Fatal mistake. Yet in an effort to not seem like Regina George, I optimistically let it slide, in the hope he could redeem himself.
The saving grace, I suppose, is that at least the conversation wasn’t completely stilted. Now, despite this seeming like your average blind date, the whole time I couldn’t quite be assured that the date actually had any idea of what I was talking about. Definitely the smile-and-nod type (endearing, sure, but not exactly reassuring in this type of situation). This all culminated in the slightly insulting chat asking if I had ever tried speed dating; that would be a no.
Now for the kicker; when departing our separate ways, the date had to ask me my name again. Not totally unexpected though, given what I was just subjected to. Overall, this was an evening of my life I’m not going to get back. Oh well, Critic, at least you tried!
Thanks DiLusso for the tab and great drinks. And to Emma, fuck you.
Ed
I arrived first, and spent five minutes having a yarn to the bartender. Nice guy. Then she came in and we found our way to the closest table. I could tell she was nervous because she was speaking pretty fast, and unfortunately she must have never felt too relaxed because this continued for the rest of our date.But maybe that was the whole point. She let me know that her friend, who was meant to be on the date, had gotten cold feet and she swapped a subliminal message of “I don’t want to be here, let’s make this as easy as possible” into the mix. Not that it mattered to me; the way I saw it, nice drinks and a decent meal was enough by itself, anything more would have been a pleasant bonus. In fact, getting to know a stranger over some food is its own little delight. I even learnt she did yoga-boxing, which either means there is some very lucky or unlucky man out there waiting for her bedroom.
By the end, I had lashed out on some fine desert (I’m a sucker for my sweet tooth). Now any tiny fragment of attraction I’d unintentionally built from the other end of the table was probably eroding away as I indulged with the unrestrained joy of my former 10-year-old self. I wish I could go on a blind date with chocolate cake. When you first see it, it looks like shit, only to surprise you with how sweet it is. Unfortunately this date only held up the first truth out of those two. We then made our way outside where a very awkward combination of things happened. I didn’t just want to walk away in the opposite direction like a jerk, so I asked for her cell number. Then she pulled out her iPhone and let me know it was broken. As a non-iphone user, it didn’t click why this was relevant, so I asked again like a dumbass. Instead of letting me know for the second time it’s broken, she told me her (nonexistent?) number. I had no idea because I just hit random numbers to get out of the situation politely. I then did the jerk thing I set out to avoid, and walked in the opposite direction.