The hopeful lovers on the Critic Blind Date are provided with a meal and a bar tab, thanks to Ombrellos and Cello.

About a year ago I sent Critic a drunk message. “Help! You’ve got to set me up on the blind date, I’m wearing out my vibrator.” It only took a year, but I finally got the message I’d been waiting for. I was going on the blind date. I didn’t have the time or money to pregame with anything except the three-month-old bottle of Nitro I found under the couch a couple days prior (talk about fate). I pounded half of it while my flatmate did her meal prep for the week and headed off to Ombrellos. My date was already there. I’m pretty shallow so my biggest fear was that he was going to be ugly or have no lips or something. But fortunately, he was cute and super sweet. We actually got along so well I was worried I would have nothing to write. Four glasses of Sav later, we were discussing mutual friends. He asked my opinion of one guy in particular, to which I sort of choked on my food a little bit. He took this to mean I despised the guy, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was because I’m a hoe and I’d already let his friend stuff my taco. 

He was a perfect gentleman and walked me home. Unfortunately I didn’t have that feeling in my vagina to seduce him, so we parted ways and I stumbled through the door. According to my flatmate I thought he was so nice that I had to tell her twenty times. Sorry.

I’d never been on a blind date before, but I totally think it should be more of a thing. It wasn’t awkward or weird, just a super fun way to meet new people. 10/10 would do again, especially if Critic is paying xx 

Cam

As I sat there staring at the message, I realised I had finally made it to the big league. The Critic blind date! Full of excitement I grabbed a beer and washed my balls in the sink after a long day in the office. With another beer in hand I rocked up 5 minutes early to Ombrellos.

It had a nice atmosphere and good music playing whilst I sat there twiddling my thumb and a ½. A little late my stunning looking date arrived half pissed. The conversation was lacking substance, although I learnt a lot about her.  As I quickly progressed through my drinks, and my date got drunker she developed some interesting quirks, for example a fresh breeze came by the table and she NAEED like horse. Not the most fun one but the funniest.

Our meals arrived, I had a 5 star pork belly which I enjoyed greatly whilst my petite vegan date stared me down. As we finished it became apparent that there was only one of us there for the free meal. After a mindless hour about how she liked to get her hair done I made my excuses to go to the bathroom, there I rang my mate I had teed up. Told him to “mate ring me back in five say you need help burning a body or something…. I don’t know or give a fuck just something”.

Wouldn’t you know it five mins later my mate had a mental break down…. Not a big stretch for him but hey at that point I had been thinking “maybe jail’s not that bad”

I know it’s sexist in 2018, but I am still a chivalrous gentleman so I walked my now intoxicated date home. Using my pre-scripted exit strategy, I motion for a hug that turned into a slobbery drunken kiss.

It was only a kiss. How did it end up like this? 

It was only supposed to be a hug…