Love is Blind | Issue 19

Love is Blind | Issue 19

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 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.


I don't usually do blind dates as there's always the scare of getting a polar dead battery chick with the IQ of a brick. Fortunately my date wasn't this, but a crafty musician who likes the Dunedin band scene and loves The Stones.

As with every blind date, some liquid confidence was a must, and as I sat in the bar three older (40ish), single women aged walked in. I thought, “oh fuck, I’ve really dropped the ball on this one,” but luckily following those old birds was a fiery redhead showing just enough skin to get me hard as fuck. We jumped straight into some exceptional chat mostly based around what music we liked, who we are, why we put our names down – standard pleasantries – and we promptly decided that we are going to spend all the money on drinks. After we ran the tab dry we shot back to hers for a nightcap.

It turns out my date has the best tits I have ever seen: the round to perky ratio was perfect and had Hershey Kiss-nipples. Unfortunately I lost my date while I was flapping around like a bird to Dinosaur Sanctuary and was unable to capitalise on seeing those tits again. The highlight of my night was establishing that good chat is an indicator of a good root ... time will tell ;) Thanks, Critic, for the free food and my date for an awesome night. Will be seeing those tits again.


Not gonna lie, I hate the ceremony of dates. And I hate romance, so I was pretty apprehensive as I was getting ready to go out this evening. It was nicely helped along by a few glasses of vino tinto and blasting Sherpa.

I turned up late, because fuck getting there early and having to awkwardly wait at the bar, only to find that my date had already arrived. He was a very good-looking guy, well dressed, nice bod and dress shoes to boot. We got talking, and instantly decided that the most prudent action would be to spend the entire tab on alchy. He was really nice and funny, decent chat all round to be honest. A few beers, and vodka-soda-limes later, we found that we actually had a shitload of mutual friends and things in common. He was very interested in Dunedin music (much to my delight) and had a great taste in tunes. I particularly warmed towards him when he expressed his love for The Stones, The Doors, and all things Jim Morrison. SCORE! We drained our way through the bar tab as we spoke about ourselves, our favourite pastimes and general fun banter.

I then decided that I would rather like this wee hang out sesh to continue, and suggested that we hit up a gig that I had been planning on ditching my date for (had he not measured up to my standards of chat that I require from my potential dates). To my delight, he was very keen to also keep this date going and so we headed to the flat of a friend of mine and did many, many more shots of vodka, before skipping along to White Night at the Attic. Things got a little blurry after this point, but I do remember that Astro Children were particularly fab, and that I did have a huge amount of appreciation for Ostrander Aardvark as well. Unfortunately, amidst my drunken haze, I did lose my date at the end of the night, but woke up to a cheeky wee FB add, so that’s a cool thing. All in all, a bloody good night out with a seriously cool human. Chur, Critic!
This article first appeared in Issue 19, 2014.
Posted 9:16pm Sunday 10th August 2014 by Lovebirds.