Each week, we lure two singletons to The Captain Cook Hotel, give them food and drink, 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.
As I left the Family home, my mother chimed in with “Make sure you sink some piss, because no good story ever started with a fucking salad”. I dropped a knee and sunk some of the finest piss you could imagine, no it wasn’t southern gold but it probably should have been, and with that I was on my way. I want to say I was ready but I was pretty nervous. Would she show up? Would I be forced in to chatting up one of the bartenders? I arrived a mere twenty minutes late at the fine establishment that is The Cook, pondering the days of the sticky floors and late closings (You first years have no idea). The place has changed that’s for sure.
As it turns out my date was a little late herself, but only a meager ten minutes. I have a theory in life, you can pretty much be late to anything but never meetings or job interviews and this was neither. We settled in to some conversation, which established the basics and moved on to the typical residential college debate, I ex Arana and she ex Carrington. She said Fuck Arana and I proceeded to tell her about Arana being her first choice. Which let’s be honest, it is. Whoever puts Aquinas, Citycol or any other that is not Arana first really needs a head check. By this stage the booze was really starting to sink thick and fast and the discussion quickly turned to her recent trip to Europe where she proceeded to tell me about a place where all roads lead to: Bratislava, a city with cheap booze and delicious cheesecake, apparently the finer white powders were readily available too. What more could you possibly want?
We surprisingly had lasted till closing, according to bar girls’ knowledge the previous three dates hadn’t. I had spent a bit of extra coin on some more booze over the allocated amount and I was humming, absolutely humming. A quick shot for the road and a discussion about a viewing of some classic Kath and Kim episodes at hers. From here the night gets very blurry but what I do remember is being kicked out about 12.30am and stumbling into Night and Day around 1am for a feed. The hangover the next day was horrendous and a reminder of the good old Arana days. For the record I don’t think we watched any Kath and Kim episodes but a true gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell...
I’ve just come back from an exchange in Europe, where I tried them all; the young, the old; the tall, the small; the mean, the keen. You name it and I probably went there. So when I got the opportunity to go on a blind date, I was dripping with anticipation to see how deep and dirty I could get in one of my first weeks back in Dunedin.
The date had a terrific start with him arriving a solid 20 minutes late and obviously very nervous. After brief introductions, the first round was poured and my date told me a story with a great cliffhanger. Honestly fantastic! No, seriously you will want to keep reading when I tell you what it was. So should I? Yeah of course I should. Okay, I’ll stop building up the suspense…He got drunk at a party one night and fell of a cliff. Yeah I know I wasn’t expecting it either.
I always enjoy a mature man and my date was 4 years older than me. Not quite sugar daddy potential I thought, but he does have two holiday houses in Wanaka (ka-ching!). I spent all my money in Europe so any extra dollar bills coming my way are very welcome, and trust me, I can be very sweet (and flexible). As I was trying to show him my sugar baby qualities we started talking about the Australian show Kath and Kim. I thought I was a big fan until I met this guy, he’s seen every single episode! Maybe he is actually older than he said? Heeeeello future husband.
Overall, it was a great night. The food was good, the drinks were choice and I got a little moist. The bar staff were absolutely fabulous (and kinda hot, especially the blonde girl, are you single? Want your clit to tingle? I’ll be back for you, don’t worry hun, I’m worth it). My date had good chat and it didn’t end awkwardly. Despite me drinking my values away, I didn’t put an “o” into Otago that night. Oh well, I’ll just remain a small town girl, living in a lonely world and take the midnight train goin’ anywhere.
OKAY I LIED WE WENT TO MINE AND HAD SEX—I PANICKED OK? I PANICKED. OH MY GOD PLEASE DON’T LET MY MUM FIND OUT.