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 critic@critic.co.nz. 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.
Snowflake Inbe4thetrolls
I was excited to go on this date and felt safe(r) in the knowledge that statistically non-binary and trans people assault people less than binary and non-trans people do (including sexual assault on dates). At home I started preparing for the date by reading an article on the history of fascism in New Zealand, #justgirlythings. I then realised: shit! It’s 6:27pm; I have a date in half an hour. So I ran to my room to put on red lipstick and gloss and some black eye shadow to be the goth femme that I am. My date was already seated at the table. Surrounded by busts of slaughtered stuffed animals, we perused the menu for freegan/vegan options because for some reason queer people and veg*nism has this rather prominent crossover.
The non-alcoholic beverages flowed and so did my gender (cuz that’s how gender fluidity works right? lmao). We drank so many free fizzy drinks and sparkling water that we both ended up going to the bathroom a fair few times… which can be quite a conundrum for non-binary people… there were only binary bathrooms so we both opted to piss on the floor… I guess queer people are just more open like that?
The conversation took a natural turn to white supremacy, food desserts, racism within the vegan community and cissexism. We exchanged favourite poems, doing low-key dramatic readings… I shared a poem from Maya Angelou called “No Weeper, No Loser” (it’s a great and very feelsy poem, you should totes check it out) and they shared a poem by a French guy with Snow in his name with the word ‘Phantom’ repeated lots. It was cool.
We talked about culture, indigenous rights, environmentalism and colonialism (which we agreed was ironic given we were in the spirit home of James “Colonising-Ass” Cook himself, eugh). I ordered another drink; a pineapple, passionfruit lemonade and they ordered a virgin mojito. The bar was closing so we went to the counter and didn’t pay. I gave my lovely date a ride home. They told me they had tried to gather me flowers but they fell apart so they threw them out. I said the thought was very nice anyway. I dropped them home and we agreed that we’d catch each other at the communal garden and/or go opshopping together, cuz #sustainability. Thanks for the lovely evening… and the free food, yusss.
Assatta Shookor
I believe that time is a social construct, so naturally I was what most normative people would consider “late” for my date. Upon finally arriving to the Captain Cook restaurant, a man I had never met before told me to sit at a reserved table in a corner of the room. Firstly, let me start off by saying no man tells me what to do. I am a liberated human being. So, instead of immediately sitting at the table, I stood in his direct path of vision and stared him down. I was no longer the object of his voyeuristic pleasure, but the reflective surface forcing him to come face-to-face with his obvious internalised insecurities. Taking. Back. The Gaze.
My date finally arrived, and we greeted each other using the secret Non-binary Society Handshake. Don’t ask; it’s a secret. And trademarked. My date was far more astute than I, and noticed that the seats were made of leather. They suggested that instead of partaking in the continuing apathy towards the cruelty of animals, we sit on the floor in protest. I agreed. We are both vegan. We continued to have a rather nice conversation on the floor, which was made from locally sourced, organic lumber (so it was cool). The drinking menu was customisable - like our gender presentations, so that was nice. The barista made us both lovely juice cocktails, and even made nonalcoholic mixes for us both.
Upon ordering our food, we found that many of the items were locally sourced, but that the vegan options were mainly limited to the side dishes. So we ordered all of them. Halfway through our meal, we noticed that the ceiling was decorated with tin tiling. We became very upset, knowing the economic and social oppression to which Indonesian tin miners are subjected in order to fulfill our first world sensibilities. So we opted to eat outside on the sidewalk.
My date was so witty and we talked extensively on gender identity and representation, the effects of globalization on identity and body politics, identity erasure, international antiblackness and white supremacy, and glitter. Being a poet, they were very insightful on the topic of different poets and spoken word artists. We recited poetry to each other as we ate our meal. We ended the night by practicing vulnerability and honesty with each other in the form of screaming our insecurities at the moon while holding hands. We are both gay.