Love is Blind | Issue 2

Love is Blind | Issue 2

Critic’s infamous blind date column brings you weekly shutdowns, hilariously mismatched pairs, and the occasional hookup. Each week, we lure two singletons to Di Lusso, ply them with food and alcohol, then wait for their reports to arrive in our inbox. If this sounds like you, email critic@critic.co.nz. But be warned – if you dine on the free food and dash without sending us a writeup, a Critic writer will write one under your name. And that won’t end well for you.

Eric

He’s a lean, keen, drinking machine. Studies roofing and feels very accomplished in his profession. He loves Top Gear and has a man crush on Jeremy Clarkson.

I t was a bit of a surprise to suddenly be going on a blind date, but flatmates coerced me and the commitment was made. Before the date, I made sure I sculled and shotgunned a few Speights so that I was prepped to chat up my anonymous lady friend. Later on, one of my chums dropped me off at Di Lusso. I had no idea what a blind date was before arriving, so I was quite surprised to learn that the person I was dating was not actually blind. After spending a few minutes trying to work out whether there was some other deformity about her, I came to the conclusion that she was really quite normal.

My ability to converse with the female population has always been quite limited, so when I arrived, I practiced my conversation with one of the barmen in preparation. One would think it is quite easy to talk to a normal girl, but it is clearly beyond the capabilities of your average ape. When she arrived, we said hi and there were changes in tone and stuttering, so already this confident lady was aware of my social inadequacies.

For a young guy with the sex appeal of a camel, I knew the only way this could end even remotely successfully well, would be to drink a lot more, so I did exactly that. I believe my attempts at humour occasionally worked (although I’m not very funny) and was able to get her to laugh a few times. When the bar tab ran out, we decided to have a few cocktails each, which was a great way to conclude our evening. When the evening did conclude, we hugged and went our separate ways.

She was very lovely and I am still awkward. Cheers, Di Lusso and Critic, for a great blind date/first date.

Ariel

She had high expectations but got a mouse.
Apparently she looked like a lizard.


W hen I woke up Thursday morning, I didn’t know that come the evening, I would be sitting through one of the worst dates of my existence. I was expecting a man and I got a mouse. When I arrived fashionably late, the bartender informed me that my date was in the bathroom and “cute”. By the way she said it, I knew I was in for a rough night.

Five minutes later, a pre-pubescent twelvie walked out of the bathroom. Instantly my hopes and dreams of a good root and quality banter were gone. His opening line of “I called my dad before this, it’s my first date” really hit the nail on the coffin of my libido. I forgot his name instantly as I tried to concentrate on the appalling chat he was giving.

It got to the stage where I was drinking to hide my sorrows. At 9 pm I was ready to leave but, seeing as we still had some of the bar tab left, I decided to power through and commit to the end. As I got drunker, the conversation got weirder. One of the questions that arose was “What animal do I most look like?” A future note of advice to my date: it’s not attractive when a punching-20-year-old male says his date looks like a pretty lizard. It was then that I knew it was time to leave.

The date concluded just before 10. I left with a sloppy kiss on my cheek and gave him no chance of ever getting in contact with me again. I decided my night wasn’t a complete disaster when I went to the next bar and met a man who had actually had sex more than three times. It didn’t take long for my restored libido to be quenched. Top marks to him for the good use of his hands and tongue.

Cheers Critic for a shit date, but excellent booze. A quick shout out to the bartender here — your drinks were on point!
This article first appeared in Issue 2, 2015.
Posted 6:26pm Sunday 1st March 2015 by Lovebirds.