Love Is Blind | Issue 05

Love Is Blind | Issue 05

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 or FB message us. 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.


A classic, shitty Dunedin night was improved by the prospect of a mean feed and free booze. With a couple of whiskies already down me, I was feeling confident and ready to fire. A Steiny Pure in hand, I patiently watched the clock tick past 7.30pm, and then my eyes soon fell upon a fine looking lass who sat down opposite me. We began with all the generic, boring questions and ordered this huge fuck-off platter of food. After getting to know each other a little better and a few more drinks later she went for the obligatory bathroom break. During this time the bartender approached me and advised that if the date was going downhill he would supply us with shots of social lubricant. However, this would not be needed.

After quite a few Margaritas, we decided it was time to continue the party elsewhere. We staggered back to my humble abode whilst discussing Kama Sutra in detail. At around 11.30pm or so we entered my flat; assuming my flatmates were in bed, we tried to sneak in through the back door – that was not the case, however, as they were getting trolleyed in the lounge.

My flatmates roared with approval as my date walked in behind me. She then sat down with us to enjoy a Bogan and Coke. A few strong drinks later, we all were getting quite inebriated. Soon after, my flatmate suggested that we commence a game of strip poker. We all laughed, including the girls, and decided fuck it, why not. Now, strip poker isn’t as easy as one would imagine, especially when your flatmates team up on you. Before I knew it, I felt like I was in a Bendon Lingerie commercial. To be honest, we had sunken more piss than an alcoholic walrus on holiday. This is when things started to get a little more heated. I don’t want to get too graphic and into the nitty-gritty but I flopped out my Dirk Diggler and shit got crazy.

Thanks Critic and Di Lusso for a great night!


I was sitting in my flatmate’s room on the eve of the Blind Date and we were discussing different scenarios for the night and wondering what the guy would be like personality-wise. My flatmate and I decided that I would have a couple of drinks before the date to shake the nerves and, well, that I definitely did. I had downed several drinks within the hour before the date and to give the nerves a right kick in the ass I treated myself to a shot at Albar before heading to the destination where my date was waiting for me.

We immediately ordered a platter and drink each. The conversation was flowing – we talked about all general things like where we were from and travelling, etc. Little did this guy know the entire time he was talking to me (whilst I was still listening) I was thinking to myself “Holy Crap … can this guy tell I’m smashed?” It was evident in my slurring and broken speech. Eventually our platter came and that became the new topic of conversation. I was smashing the food down in an attempt to sober up a little – but with the only liquid in sight being alcohol that never really happened.

So anyway, it turns out he’s really into orgies and invited me over to his after the date for an orgy with his flat mates. I accepted his invitation but sadly had to dash as my flat mate decided to pull her red card but I had promised to meet him in town after and got his number. I saved his under Critic Date and he saved mine under Orgy Date. We never got to meet up that night or have our orgy but maybe in the future when I’m feeling frisky I will text him for one.
This article first appeared in Issue 5, 2014.
Posted 5:30pm Sunday 23rd March 2014 by Lovebirds.