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Rose
When I signed up for Summer Lovin’ I was expecting to have a week or two to amp myself up for said lovin' - if they even contacted me at all. What I actually got was a paltry six hours to mentally and physically prepare myself for a blind date with a guy who would undoubtably be a) a fresher, b) legless, or c) both. What I actually got was a lovely, tall fourth year who had only had one or two beers beforehand to take the edge off, which I couldn't fault him for because I'd done the same.
After my beer and much internal debate, I decided to fly solo and not get my friends/flatmates to hold my hand through the date (unlike most of the pussies who have taken up this challenge previously). I was glad to see he'd done the same, though we both got the inevitable friend texts demanding to know if the person was a fuggo or not. We had a really great conversation, some highlights being him telling me about pashing every girl in his seventh form year, his homebrewing of what I can only assume is moonshine and realising we'd been in the same city in Japan on an exchange in the same year. There were good laughs and yummy shakers, thanks Toast. Seriously, the apple crumble one is like drinking a pie.
 
After Toast, the night really began. My date's brilliant idea was to take me to karaoke, so off to Vivache we went. The less-than-cranking venue (read: empty venue) and the bemused bartender made for a really awkward time of us shooting soju (which essentially tasted like Kristov), duetting 3 Doors Down's “Kryptonite” and his brilliant party song; Enrique Iglesias' “Hero”. He seemed extremely disappointed when it wasn't the techno remix but he soldiered on through the soulful ballad.
 
Unfortunately, I had to leave early because 50 metric shit tonnes of assignment awaited my loving touch, but all-in-all the date was great fun and an excellent procrastination tool! We were conspiring to fool all the lovely readers of Critic and fabricate some bullshit about hookers and such, but instead the truth of a (shock, horror!) successful blind date comes out. But just so everybody isn't too disappointed, my date and I definitely see a trip to Lucky 7 and all the fine establishments south of the Octagon in our future.
 
Jack
With bar tab in hand, flatmate’s shirt on and a giggling group of female mates watching, I entered Toast Bar not knowing what to expect, but hoping that I wouldn’t be dating a) a bitch or b) a dude. With my nerves under control thanks to a few beverages, I was cool, calm and collected, and sat down and ordered a beer. My date for the night arrived shortly after, anything but cool, calm and collected. Practically running into the bar, she introduced herself at a million words a minute. I immediately missed what her name was – always a good start.
 
Turns out we had heaps in common though and conversation flowed easily, especially as we worked our way through the bar tab; the usual shakers and shots. Turns out we both had been to Japan so it seemed logical that after Toast we would head to Vivace. Stumbling into Vivace, the place was pumping; some sort of OGHS seventh form event I believe.
 
Needless to say I was in my element, and within no time we were crooning to the young’uns. As the only male in the room apart from the big boss dog bartender, the stats were in my favour, though he was doing pretty well for himself pashing at least two between serving up bodyshots of soju. By midnight shit was getting crazy – like one of Snoop’s videos I was up on stage laying down the hits while the crowd got naked, with clothes dropping left right and centre. At this stage I noticed at the back of the room my date leaving through the door with the bartender – good shit! With just me, two dozen half-naked women and an open bar, things were looking good. From here on things are a bit of blur, but its safe to say that not a single one of the girls there left unsatisfied.
 
When I awoke the next morning to a small Asian women poking me with a broom while I slept on the bar, I gave myself a hi-five as I surveyed the sleeping honeys around me. After quickly satisfying the cleaner, I got myself dressed and set off on a glorious walk of shame. Cheers to Critic for setting me up with the most epic night of my life as well as a new itchy rash.