Me Love You Long Time | Issue 13

Me Love You Long Time | Issue 13

Critic’s blind date column has been running for a while now. We’ve all got some good laughs out of it, and at least a few people have scored themselves a night of romance. But here at Critic we feel that it’s time that we stepped it up a notch. The date is now at Little India to add a little more spice. But that’s not all; each week our blind daters will have an extra challenge to deal with, which they won’t be told about until they arrive for their date. If you want in on the action, email with your details.

This week Critic gave the male blind dater three girls to choose from. However, he was blindfolded while he met each girl for 15mins, and then had to choose on who would be joining him for dinner at Little India:


There I was going about my daily routine of deciding the manner in which I would treat myself for the evening: would I elect for a ‘Towlie?’ (The first Google search result for “How to make your own fleshlight” – Seriously worth a watch) or would I light a couple of candles and go traditional? The world was my oyster. To disturb my evening plans there was a knock on my door and a rather cheeky looking Joe Stockman to ask me whether or not I could be at The Cook in 20min for a blind date. I chucked on my sexy man-panties and headed down. As I entered I saw a sight which stopped me in my tracks: There was Joe Stockman. My mind flicked to a steamy shower scene, just the two of us, though before I could ponder this scenario further he told me the nature of his visit. I was to be dating not just one, but three women tonight, and then choosing one in a “bachelor” sort of deal. The trouble was I had to cover my face with a bag so neither could see the other; did Joe think I was truly that ugly or did he have Islamic tendencies?

The first Shela was a chirpy young girl; had great chats, though was apparently in some sort of pre-marital set up, so if I was to avoid Mrs. Palmer for the evening she was out. Next was a girl who claimed to be a 200-level accounting tutor, and as much as the thought of getting with a teacher got all my pistons firing, I had to move on to date three. Lucky last (more on the lucky part later) was a girl who claimed to have already drunk a bottle of wine. I had found my date.

With my bag removed I realised I’d made a good choice (GoiiiGeN). We shared some lols over a butter chicken at Little Indian and (here’s the cute part) I was thinking how much I was enjoying our date. After watching “The Dictator”, which is Sacha Baron Cohen’s latest Rom-Com, she invited me back to hers (Here’s the less-than cute part). We kept drinking and throwing down some inebriated chats when she decided it was time to head up stairs. I obliged. Now any good gentleman knows not to kiss and tell… and though I am far from any definition that would be inclusive of the term “Gentleman” I’ll let you kids work it out .


After sculling half a bottle of wine and turning up to the cook, I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. My date was not only blind folded, he had a white cotton bag over his head and looked like a KKK member. This called for a tequila shots. I was last in line for the pleasure of getting to meet my eligible bachelor, but things definitely heated up quickly - I would have taken him for a science student with the amount of chemistry between us (LOL), but it turns out he was doing a BCom or something. Sexy. Just when I thought our connection couldn’t have been any stronger, he started talking about his love of cats, and I knew straight away we could bond over my pussy.

My date finally revealed himself, and I was pleasantly surprised to find his only similarity to elephant man was in the trunk department (penis... get it...) He was a lot taller than me, which left me wondering how such physics would play out later in the evening... but I’ve done yoga before, so I knew I was up to the challenge. I thanked my opponents and off we went to Little India, accompanied by a soundtrack (mainly consisting of Matchbox 20’s “Time after Time”) that my flatmates thought it would be appropriate to blast while driving at 10km next to us.

The restaurant was really nice, and the conversation flowed as freely as the wine. My date had some great chat, and while I don’t quite remember the specifics, I’m pretty sure I was having a good time. After dinner we drunkenly made our way to the movies, where we were slightly disappointed to not get back row seats to fondle in as requested.

He paid for the movie, so it was only fair I that I take him back to mine to show him my appreciation. We continued to drink all the wine I could find in the pantry whilst discussing Finding Nemo with my flat mate – I love a man who knows his Pixar. We took the party upstairs, and again I’m pretty sure we enjoyed ourselves judging by the marks on my neck. I was a bit apprehensive about what was to come, as he’d told me he hadn’t had sex in a while (not my idea of traditional dirty talk) but he took control of the bedroom and removed all traces of doubt. The good news is we are now Facebook friends, so the natural next step is making it Facebook official... Cheers Critic!
This article first appeared in Issue 13, 2012.
Posted 7:40pm Sunday 27th May 2012 by Lovebirds.