The hopeful lovers on the Critic Blind Date are provided with a meal and a bar tab, thanks to Mamacita. If you’re looking for love and want to give the Blind Date a go, email email@example.com
I had been keen to do the Blind Date for ages but it was the same night as Friction, and I had promised the fellas I’d meet them at the front left of the gig. The aim of the game then was to convince whoever this girl was to join me.
After getting reasonably horsed with everyone at my flat I rocked up to the date. I had planned some shitty icebreakers but as soon as I sat down we got talking easily. She was an exchange student from America who hadn’t really met too many kiwis and hadn’t got behind the Dunners party scene. So, I thought to myself, I’ve got to give this girl the most iconic Dunedin night ever.
Surprisingly she was super down for it, despite not being much of a partier. Within twenty minutes she had bought her ticket to Friction, her first DnB gig, and we were yarning about anything and everything. Being the gentleman I am, I paid for the Uber back to mine so we could keep drinking before the gig. Turns out all the credit I’d gained from Fruber paid for it. How good.
Back at my Castle flat we kept yarning, smashed Billys and had a cap each. She had never had either of those before. At the gig I was cutting shapes like no tomorrow, but she wasn’t feeling it. She said she had to take a call and come back. I waited for five minutes then went to find her but she was gone. And that was that.
But fuck, first DnB gig, first Billy, first visit to Castle and first cap in one. Can you get more Dunners than that? Gutted I didn’t say goodbye but hope you enjoyed being a breather for the night!
Friction was mean though.
It started out pretty well, relatively entertaining conversation, free food, and beer. After some wild conversation topics, including how he can apparently swim for 5k straight (leading me to wonder what his stamina would be like in bed), he asked me if I wanted to go to a Friction concert that was happening on campus. Promising that it would be ‘better than heaven’, and being open to what the night may hold (and hoping to get laid) I said ‘sure’.
He walked me back to his flat which was a shithole, to put it nicely. He proudly showed off the holes in the walls, perhaps in a weak attempt to impress me with how wild and free his flat is? Keeping an open mind, hoping the rest of the flat would not be a testament to his room, we ventured forth. I was sorely disappointed. His room was a mess, it was cold, and he sleeps on a mattress on the floor. Some of that may be out of his control, but however low my standards are, I refuse to have sex on a floor mattress in a shithole of a flat where you can basically see the STDs.
With sex now out of the question, I wanted to go home, but had already bought the ticket to the concert. After passing the time with some light conversation (everything from life philosophy to dealing drugs) and downing a few drinks, we left for the concert. The line was long, the ticket expensive, and the music terrible.
I made up some bullshit excuse about taking a call outside, and left, hoping that he wouldn’t miss me and would quickly forget about me with the help of the seizure-inducing lights and whatever drugs everybody was most definitely on.
Mourning my wasted money, I returned home and discussed the night with my flatmates. In an attempt to comfort me, they lovingly referred to my date as a ‘breather’, saying that I ‘dodged a bullet’.
I ended the night sexually frustrated and having to pry a very drunk, very naked flatmate out a bed that was not theirs.