MarnieI decided ahead of time that I should be late, because someone always seems to be in these columns. Unfortunately my fashionable five minutes turned into a terrible-but-accurate-first-impression 15, so when I power-walked into Di Lusso I was puffing too hard to properly lock eyes on my date. It was only when I heard him say to the bartender that we’d “met before” that he came into focus. His well-manicured facial hair was unmistakable: it was that guy. You know, the one you sleep with once in second year and you think you’ve forgotten because now you’re fourth year and a Real Adult. But whenever you’re ovulating that’s the guy your body wants because … well … bodies, huh?!
So yeah, bit awkward at first, but we moved on and into the best date talk of my life. He’s funny and clever, but not in a wanky Russell Brand way. He studies Philosophy, and his favourite comedian is Simon Amstell, so I knew he would be relatable and insightful. He was: our chat about Robocop was absolutely top notch.
He ordered a cocktail called the “Penguin,” which made him seem adventurous and comfortable in his masculinity. I ordered one, too, because so am I. I regretted the Penguin when, 15 minutes after I’d run to the bathroom to Snapchat, I needed to pee4real.
The platter was intimidating, so it wasn’t long before we ran away from it back to his place, where we planned on watching Robocop. We didn’t watch Robocop. We had sex. We were standing and naked and there was moonlight streaming in from his massive windows, and I felt like we were Jennifer Love-Hewitt and Ashton Kutcher in that weird movie where they’re naked on the Big Wolf on Campus rock. Why did I watch that? Was it even in cinemas? Anyway, it was beautiful (us, not the movie). We did it in, like, four different positions, and then watched Reddit videos until we fell asleep. I’m so happy we got to finally have that date I falsely promised him all that time ago! Thanks Di Lusso and Critic!
CharlieI’m not very experienced with one night stands, so being confronted by a beautiful girl who I’m forced to woo or else be moaned about to the entire Uni isn’t my idea of a good time; rather it’s the Critic blind date. My one successful venture into picking girls up in bars ended with me vomiting five times, not because the girl was unattractive but because she was so good looking that I had to almost drown in alcohol before I could talk to her. So when Critic’s editor called to convince me I should go on the blind date his phone call included a lot of “don’t worry, if you drink responsibly then that’ll never happen again.”
I’d just begun my big night of responsible drinking when it happened again. Or rather, something much worse happened; the same girl who’d watched me pull my penis out of her and then vomit repeatedly walked up to the bar and announced she was there for the Critic blind date. Somehow I managed to make eye contact and watched the slightly confused eyebrow twitch of somebody realising that their romantic Di Lusso date is actually going to be the most awkward two and a half hours of their life.
Yet, although her eyebrow had revealed that she remembered me, her (perfect) lips never said so and we sat through our entire date having a fantastic time. Despite having once been as intimate as two people could be, our conversation was exactly the same as between two strangers. It was almost as though in the world of casual sex everything isn’t just forgiven but totally forgotten, making one night stands exist in their own bubble-world free of judgment or any regret.
The date turned out to go far better than expected. Not only was the food, drinks, ambiance and company amazing but so was being more nervous than I have been my entire life, thinking the worst thing in the world had happened, and instead it being the most liberating moment of my life.
Thanks Critic, Di Lusso and my amazing date.