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 firstname.lastname@example.org. 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.
He wears a man-bun, is mighty punctual, and fancies his lecturer. Cute.
I showed up to Di Lusso on time. The bartender told me, “Oh yeah, the dates usually show up about half an hour late.” Oh, okay. I sat sheepishly on a bar stool, eavesdropping on a girls-night where everyone was complimenting each other far too much. I wasn’t really nervous, but needed a cigarette a lot, and so prayed that he was a smoker.
The date showed up after fifteen minutes. He was really cute; not entirely my type, but I certainly wouldn’t throw him out of bed either. He seemed quiet so I ordered the highest percentage beers available. I sat down and immediately said, “So, tell me everything about yourself!” Tone badly set — there’s no chance of appearing casual/cool after that intro. He didn’t seem to mind though; we chatted about things, one of them being the substantial number of notches on his belt. He complained, “I’ve only hooked up with seven guys since I got back down this year, I have quietened down so much!” Okay, so I’d slept with fewer people in my entire life than he had in the last three months. Felt morally superior for about 0.3 seconds, but then remembered how earlier that day I was daydreaming in class about my lecturer slapping his dick across my face: I was in no position to judge.
He began to open up; we talked about music, films and respecting the R.A.P.E. acronym on dates (don’t talk about religion, abortion, politics and exes), all of which I brought up as I got drunker, whoops! Oh well, we were getting along well enough.
He said he hadn’t been to many flat parties so I took him along to one. I kept forgetting his name and forgetting that he wasn’t a smoker (I tried to force a Holiday Menthol to his lips at least 15 times), but to his credit he did keep getting cuter as the night wore on (or maybe credit to the good folks at Country Cask Wines). Despite this, there really wasn’t much chemistry between us; I snapped him checking his Grindr profile towards the end of the night, which sealed the non-deal, and we ended the night going our separate ways.
Says he has a killer gaydar, but that’s not hard if you love Grindr so much that you stare at it throughout a date. Awkward.
Walking to Di Lusso, I was a mix of nervousness, confidence and adrenaline. I arrived ten minutes late and spotted my date straightaway, thanks to my killer gaydar. He was tall, slim and sported a man-bun.
We decided to sit outside and, as a person who prefers dressing minimally, it wasn’t the best idea. For not having had any alcohol so far, we somehow talked a lot. At one point, he asked whether I recognised him from his recent article. I did, and excitedly referred to him as “that faggy little kid from Wellington”. I realised my faux pas and hoped he wasn’t offended.
As the night got colder, we moved back inside. He told me to blow the candle (I forget why) and that was the only blowing-related activity that night. We then sat next to the fireplace where things got more comfortable. We discovered that we had many similar interests; it almost seemed like I was talking to a version of myself in another body.
The alcohol and the discovery that we both liked the same shit instantly made him my new best friend. The conversation became candid and, as much as I wanted to impress my date, I let it slip that I’ve been lacking party invites. Not long after, he texted his flatmate and there was a party for us to go to.
We first dropped by his flat to grab some warm clothes. He showed me his M.I.A. paintings and suggested we chill on his bed. However, I didn’t want to risk my narcolepsy ruining the night. At the party, we met his friends and they seemed nice. I kept finding myself checking Grindr subconsciously, then realising it wasn’t ok. He caught me once.
Half an hour later, we left for Maccas so I could get some food and catch up on the latest Survivor episode. We added each other on Facebook and called it a night. Who knew two gay guys could actually just be friends.
Overall, it was good, platonic fun. Cheers Critic!