Columns

Critic sets up two lucky students on a blind date.

Aladdin
 
In the back of my mind there was a whisper, “this could be your lucky night”. The bright summer loving was shining on me as I arrived at the lads’ place for the pep talk. What if she’s a muddy? How would you get away? “Bro, should I turn up and assess the situation before you head in there? Then again, if she’s a stunner do you have some magic to slap down?”
 
From there I was on my own, making sure I was neither too early nor too late. Slowly cruising into the bar, there she was. No need for the muddy escape plan, her genuine smile shone through the dim lights of Toast. The standard chat was had and lucky for us there wasn’t the standard 10-man jury watching/ analysing and judging as chat was pinballed between us. Good-hearted banter was had, Lucky 7, stilettos and the Casino were thrown out there. Suddenly, from the dark depths of Toast, a British Gollum impersonator produced a 3-5 minute speech in full role. WTF was happening? Other than the five people surrounding the newfound Dunedin sub-celebrity, the bar went silent. Nervous about the raping or murder that could follow, we hurried off to Metro for another drink. Without a plunge pool in sight we headed for the Exchange.
 
Winner! This was her lucky night! After watching members of the Otago rugby team lose copious amounts of money on the roulette table, it was my turn to show my pedigree and bring home the big money and out-alpha male those rugby jocks. ‘Ding’, “last beats”, my mind said five, I was too late, boom five it was, I was roughed up. She had outplayed, outlasted my efforts on the table. Playing the thirds of the table and black-white were the winning strategies. On that note, the brisk air had cooled and the night was coming to a close. Had a ball with a top chick with the help of Toast, creepy Gollum and red number 32. This was his lucky night.
 
Jasmine
 
Considering I was in possession of the bar tab, I thought it would be only polite to turn up relatively on time – momentary alarm that my date had beaten me there was quickly overtaken by the panic that he was about 50 years old. My actual date eventually turned up, and made the odd move of sitting down two bar stools away from me, meaning there was an awkward buffer stool between us.
 
Convo was pretty free flowing, and I’d have to say I didn’t think we were going to need to resort to any awkward questions, until he cranked out “Have you seen any good movies recently?” Ah. Things took a small downhill turn when I found out that old mate here thought that Harry Potter was on the same level as Star Wars. Luckily I was distracted from this by another Toast patron doing a full-volume Gollum impression from the booth, and nearly needed a change of knickers when he came up behind me doing this paedo-whisper thing.
 
My date apparently enjoys going on Man Camping weekends, which immediately brought up unwanted images of Brokeback Mountain and led me to question whether I had been set up with someone who was batting for the other team. He is also studying to become a primary school teacher, and had some interesting stories about dance class where they prance around with balls and ribbons. Man Points apparently get dished out on these camping weekends, which regained my interest – sounded like some serious alpha activity was going down here, I’m imagining fishing, hunting, shooting shit. Instead, they apparently get points for activities like building paper boats, and setting them on fire while they’re sailing. NZ’s next Olympic entry no doubt.
 
When we had milked the bar tab for all it was worth, a new location was on the cards. Despite suggestions from my date that we go to Lucky 7, I veered towards a venue that was less diseased. We grabbed a quick drink in Metro, where he asked me if I knew any good jokes, and in hindsight leading with a dead baby joke might not have been my finest hour. Nor was the follow-up of a double-banger Norwegian/Amy Winehouse joke, bit too soon apparently.
 
A cheeky stop in at the Casino saw me have a bit of a win, which was lucky considering I bought the round of drinks at Metro - chivalry is dead as. My date then meandered off to drink drive home, so I’m unsure whether he’s even still alive to read this or if he instead wrapped himself around a tree on the way back out to the beach. Either way, it was a pretty decent night out, topped off by a romantic McDonald’s rendezvous with my flatmate at about 2am.