HarryAs the date grew nearer and nearer, I started feeling the nerves. I had club prize giving beforehand so I was downing as much liquid courage as I could get my hands on. When I was feeling much less coordinated and much more talkative, I headed out.
I walked into the bar ten minutes late so I wouldn’t have to wait a half hour for my date to show. The bartender, seeing the look on my face, guessed why I was there and handed me a drink to help bury the nerves for good. We had a brief chat about how the dates went; some looked more like car wrecks than blind dates, apparently. After a few minutes, she walked in and I was happy to see that none of my flatmates’ predictions had come true: she was cute with dark hair and didn’t run out upon seeing me. We introduced ourselves and took seats and got to talking immediately; we both confessed we had friends ready to bail us out in case of a disaster but thankfully neither of us needed to.
As it turned out, we had both been set up by our flatmates and both of us had the same fears leading up to the date; the biggest being “what if we got stood up?” With the worries of a no-show gone, we started off on our bar tab and talk continued to flow. She was a second year food science student with a love of baking and travel; she gave me the rundown of the places she had been and her plans of working in New York.
She excused herself to the bathroom and I had a chat to the only other people in Di Lusso at the time, who turned out to be on a red card blind date and apparently went to the gym a lot. They gave me a thumbs-up regarding my date, and gave me some questions I should ask.
With the bar tab dwindling we decided we should probably order some food, which we barely touched. We finished our alcohol and I walked her to her door, got her number and will hopefully see her again.
Thank you Critic for a great date.
GinnyMy friend and I were joking about what it would be like to go on one of the Critic blind dates, that it would generally be a laugh and a half. Apparently my small amount of enthusiasm was enough to have me signed up. The next thing I knew I get this text asking if I was busy on Thursday – which was closely followed by another text saying: don’t make plans, you’re meeting your potential soul mate. Good Lord.
Keen as I was to meet this potential soul mate, I was more enthusiastic about the $50 tab that would ensure a good time. The general thought was to go on the date for the extras, and if the date was good looking, then that was the unexpected bonus. Thursday provided the unexpected bonus as the date was definitely blessed with good genetics. Props to his parents. Alongside the good looks, he was a good yarn. There was a determination in the air to deny any space for an awkward silence and it was fair to say that the tab also helped the conversation flow. However, that’s as far as I was planning to connect with my date. As attractive as my date was, the ripe old age of 23 wasn’t exactly what I wanted on top of me at the end of this night.
Hurrying the date along, we went off to play some pool. Chivalry shined through as he let me win but that didn’t make his game any stronger. Two games and I was ready to go. We went back to his flat and, continuing the chivalry, he drove me home. Probably not the legal thing to do, but heels don’t work long distance. At the door, I gave him my number and went in for the hug, setting down the mood for the night. Another time, I’m sure I would be more than keen for a piece of him. Just not when it has to be discussed with the public.
NOTE: Critic does not in any way endorse drink driving.