Critic Blind Date | Nakia and T'Challa

Brought to you by Dog With Two Tails Cafe and Bar

Nakia

I’ve heard some tragic stories about these blind dates, but what’s the worst thing that could happen, right? After months of good old peer pressure from the girls, I thought I’d spice up my life and finally gave in.

I made quite the entrance when my friend dropped me off outside the octagon, blasting “Pony” on the highest volume imaginable. Having done a few shots just before, I really didn’t need that extra attention. It was so embarrassing, but I still love her ‘cause it was a good laugh.

I walk in and see him in the corner. There he was, with his jet black hair and a gaze that could undress a girl. I realised that the Bacardi was hitting me very hard by that point, but once we got talking, everything rolled smoothly. The night is a slight blur in general, but it turned out that he studies law and plays rugby. As we sipped our glasses of wine, a sensual saxophone solo came on. He went on to show off a saucy tattoo he got done this summer. Kinky.

I bit my lip at the thought of how this night was going to end. I was almost persuaded that fuckboys are worth a one-night stand. The sexual tension was rising as the place got darker and warmer. He caught my gaze a few times and I gave in to the flirting.

Two juicy absinthe drinks later, we decided to head out towards the octagon. Nearly making it past the corner, he suddenly pulled me closer and gave me a sensual grin. Drawing us to the luring shadows of the street we started making out, forgetting about everything. Then I gave him my number and we grabbed a taxi.

Law boys don’t disappoint after all.

 

T’Challa

It was just after 5 when I’d ticked off the academic admin and commenced the build-up for the night. I popped down to the ethanol outlet and grabbed me a six-pack of V-Bangers. Whether an absolute minger, or a tidy wee snack – I was going to need every standard out of the 1.4s. I slammed them back, chundered, and topped it all off with a glass of whisky. The boat was well and truly pushed out.

7:20 came too soon and I was relatively fucked up. It was at this stage I wondered – what if she’s just had a couple of casual wines with the girls, taken the edge off a bit, and then here’s me coming in super hot with a full head of steam?

I arrived 15 minutes late feeling like I hadn’t exactly got off to a flyer. Surprisingly, my date hadn’t arrived and so I thought I’d make the first dent in the tab. Just as I’d sat back down a tall lass with an exceptional rig walked in. She ordered a drink, approached the table, and we were away. Although we had fuck all in common – she studied rocks, loved painting, and was Polish – the conversation seemed to be rolling fine.

As we were getting progressively more and more munted we were told to order meals. Mine would’ve been great if it weren’t for my date thinking it would be crackup to tip a fuckton of chilli oil onto my fish. As someone with the spice tolerance of a small child, and the ability to crack a sweat in sub-arctic temperatures, it’s fair to say I was stitched the fuck up.

To wrap up the tab we thought it would be a great idea to get absinthe shots to fuel us for the octy. A natural consequence of such consumption was things started to get a bit frisky. We’d barely walked 50 meters when the sexual tension was lifted and we shared a steamy groping sesh in plain view of everyone walking down Princes St.

Despite connections being made we both decided to call it a day, exchange numbers, and potentially revisit down the line. As the cab pulled over and my date hopped out I thought it would be appropriate to end the night with a cheeky sesh against the cab. I had to give her something to write about.

Thanks to Critic and Dog With Two Tails for an eventful night!

This article first appeared in Issue 4, 2018.
Posted 9:16pm Thursday 15th March 2018 by Critic.