If this sounds like you, email email@example.com. 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.
Tom BradyJust another fucking aucklander too cold in the Dunedin nights, looking for a good snuggle that his roommate can’t provide for him. Short on the sides but all go for a good time.
W hat better way to break up a boring-as-tits week than to get real fucking weird on a blind date? I sat in Di Lusso about six drinks deep and sussed out escape plans for the guaranteed weirdo who was about to turn up. What other kind of girl goes on these things? I was doing it for the chat but was not gonna let being unprepared get in the way of me bailing out when she started talking about her toy Game of Thrones sword she polished just before she arrived. Fuck, maybe I pre-drank too much?
Then she arrived. And dayum. Let it be said that women our age need to wear red dresses more often. ’Dis girl rolled into the bar and the six old corporate gentlemen drinking at the bar immediately coughed up the pieces of ice they’d started choking on. Being the GC I am, I went to order a drink for her. Third-years are unaware what a good drink is, right? Well apparently I know as much as Jon Snow. My partner for the night rolled to the bar and slams down a hella drink order and sits down leaving me with my jaw dropped. Needless to say, I was impressed.
We both started talking at about 100 miles an hour and the chat never really stopped. The meat platter was barely touched (more of a foreshadowing than I would ever imagine) and when we rolled into Ra Bar, my colleagues found it hilarious to ply us with more alcohol and see if my date’s boobs could stay in her dress.
We then made our way to hers. We both share a room with our respective flatmates so it was a fucking gamble either way. The night turned when, in my drunken vigour, we were hooking up and her dress tore...and my night progressed to fall apart at the seams too. Brutally this whole debacle ended much more PG than either of us want to admit. Sorry, you dirty fucks looking for an erotic climax. No deal. I should have known it wasn’t going my way when she asked for a ciggy break earlier in the night. I let it slide but, nah man, that ain’t me. Shot to Critic and Di Lusso for a solid night. I’d do that shit again in a heartbeat.
Gisele BundchenA nutter that can’t do a good write up for shit.
Well, I turned up 5 minutes late and my man was waiting silently. I arrived at Di Lusso to see the mystery man, and he had obviously let the other four people at the bar know I was coming as I wasn’t just welcomed by my man but everyone at the bar. We started the night with a japa slipper and shared a frothing meet platter. My first impressions of mystery man are weasel, but I was soon to find he’s full of humor and great chat. We got an epic as feed from the bar, followed by getting fucked up in the octagon. I find out he’s a lovely chap who is really into his teaching, loves to keep the kids close.
Thought we were getting along allgood, and according to him, very well, as he went in for the kill. I just couldn’t deny. After our romatic kiss, we found ourselves on the way to the ice skating ring. We both got on the ice skates, but the mystery man needed the training poles. We rided around the ice ring for a good half an hour before we got the idea to go to lazer tag. Before I know it, we were in a taxi and on our way to the closest lazer tag. We were in the same team, and playing 8 year olds, it’s safe to say we kicked their ass. After finishing off the eight year olds, we were back in the taxi to find our “roots” back at his flat.
All in all in, it was a blast, and the man knew how to drink, root, shoot a lazer and skate round a ring (just). Cheers for a good night, you know how to put on a date.