The hopeful lovers on the Critic Blind Date are provided with a meal and a bar tab, thanks to Mamacita. Critic Blind Date is no longer taking applications for 2019; keep an eye out for your chance next year.
It was a cold night in Breatherville when I applied to do the Blind Date for a second time. The calming combination of Losing It by Fisher next door and someone stealing a Lime in the distance reminded me that anything is possible in this city and that the girl of my dreams could be just one drunk, shame-ridden night away. I sent in a spicy limerick promising not to end up at Family Planning and heard back pretty quickly.
Having kicked back some leftover beers that were gathering dust from Hyde, I arrived at Mamacita at 7 on the dot. She arrived not long after me, and the chat was flowing immediately. She had thicc red hair, and a stunning personality. One of the first things she told me was that she’d been praying not to end up with either a fresher or a fellow redhead. I assured her that I was neither from UniCol nor James Heath, and we were off to the races.
We talked about our mutual friends, what we study, and exchanged funny stories from our first years at uni. When the waitress came over the take our order, my date threw the responsibility on me, no doubt judging me on my meal choices. “No pressure”, she said.
The night was fuelled by some loaded nachos, some delicious, albeit low-alcohol margaritas, a chicken chimichanga, and outrageous sexual tension. After we took a decent chunk out of the mountain of food between us, we ventured out to the Octy in search of cheaper booze. We ended up at DSC, due to its cheaper drinks and warm, vape friendly outside area (SmokeFree 2025 y’all).
We passed a vape back and forth and yarned a bit more, but parted ways not long after, bringing our chill but wholesome night to a close.
Thanks to my date, Mamacita and Critic for the great night and free feed – my wallet appreciates it and you!
I can usually tell within the first 30 seconds of talking to someone if something good’s going to happen or not and let’s just say this one took me 5 seconds to decide.
I was frothing for a bit of mediocre missionary sex thanks to Mamacita’s. Shame to say what was offered was not a bountiful catch. Flatmates dropped me and walking in I prayed to Satan that my blind date was not the Harry Potter look alike in the front window. Crossing my tits, I asked to be seated and I was presented to HP himself. Using words like “iconic” and “swag” I shuddered and my flaps clamped firmly shut for good.
The chat (and myself) was getting drier by the minute. So thankfully, the meal was over and I was ready to BOOST and had my pick up ready on standby. I got up and he suggested we go to DSC for another drink and not wanting to seem impolite, I said yes. Outside it was fucked up cold, but I insisted we sit outside as knew I’d need darts to help me get through the rest of this “date.” Even though it was the break, we ran into literally EVERY person I have ever known on the walk there. I knocked my wine back and he drip-fed himself his beer making me shake in my boots in impatience. Finally, as he took his last sip, I saw the headlights of my ride, said thanks and was off.
All in all, he was actually a really nice guy – just not my cup of chai tea. I didn’t realise people did this blind date for real so I hope he finds his Hermione.
Critic – thanks for the mean feed. CBK for a 2.0