Love is Blind | Issue 13

Love is Blind | Issue 13

Criticís 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 But be warned Ė 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 wonít end well for you.


Wit, charm and charisma: these were the three things I would be feigning in order to woo a complete stranger into bed.

Since the only thing Iíve ever been early to is climax, I decided long before the date that there was no chance I was to be the first person on the scene. I turned up fifteen minutes late, thinking that this bold manoeuvre was a sure fire way to arouse not only my dateís curiosity, but ultimately her loins.

Desperate to know what she looked like, I was relieved when I was greeted with a strikingly attractive, pissed off-looking slender brunette dressed in bright red lipstick and a short skirt. Considering it was a freezing cold Dunedin evening, I quietly thanked the Critic matchmakers for earning their keep.

We both cycled through a few drinks while exchanging typical pleasantries, which should be called something more reflective of their dastardly painful nature, as we fumbled our way through a few hours of relatively awkward conversation.

She seemed coolly indifferent to everything I threw at her, which made reading the situation difficult. With her being a biomed student, I chalked it up to science students being generally robotic and emotionless.

When she announced suspiciously that she had to get up early the next day to shove her hands up a bunch of deer assholes, I took it as a sign that the night was going to end badly. So after we rounded off the tab, we were presented with three options: part ways; head to my house; or head to her house. She opted for her house, and asked me to accompany her.

Once she introduced me to her lovely flatmates and her cat (this was very important) we didnít mess around: it was hammer and tongs. Itís been a while since Iíve done a walk of shame, but this was the stroll of success. Not a bad night, in the end. Weíre even friends on Facebook now.


Hair? Check. Make-up? Check. Being so nervous I sculled half a bottle of wine and semi threw up in the kitchen sink? Check. Still looking like an absolute fucking boss? Definite check! This night was most definitely off to a good start Ö

I arrived at Di Lusso at what I thought was a fashionably late time only to find he wasnít even there yet (rude much?). My flatmates and I had devised a game plan: if he looked like a potato I was cutting it short and probably having a ďquietĒ one with myself. Lucky this plan didnít have to be brought into action Ďcause I had instant fizzy knickers as soon as he walked through the door. He was very good-looking and immaculately dressed. Hells yes!

Iím going to be honest: I donít actually remember that much of the date. I didnít think I was all that drunk at the time but now when I reminisce over it, I do slightly recall dropping food over me and the floor like a wild animal. Whoops. It didnít matter though Ďcause there was only one thing I was eating that night and it wasnít on the platter we ordered.

In my drunken state, complete with broken shoe, I somehow managed to make it back to my flat with him on the promise of seeing my pussy (cat). He must have been really impressed as this eventually turned into him meeting my other cat ;) And what a meeting that was! To keep things brief, shit got real steamy Ö Waaay spicier than the chorizo from our earlier dinner. Unfortunately things did have to be kept briefer than I would have preferred as I genuinely had a very early and busy day at Uni in the morning. I did get a really good spooning to complete my night, though.

Cheers for the set-up Critic and, of course, thank you to my date! I just hope I didnít scare him off in the morning in all my hung over, no make-up and un-showered glory Ö
This article first appeared in Issue 13, 2014.
Posted 2:07pm Sunday 25th May 2014 by Lovebirds.