In a city where romance consists of drunkenly holding hands while walking home and dates are a post-town pre-root Big Mac, it seems dating, at least in the American television sense, is dead.
In Summer Lovin’, Critic sets up two lucky students on a blind date (courtesy of the lovely people at Toast), complete with a bar tab and positive vibez, in an attempt to prove that Dunedinites can date. The only catch: the love birds each divulge all the salacious details of their date in a short snappy article after the fact. If you want the chance to meet your very own Romeo or Juliet, or to at least get some free booze and Critic space, email your age/gender/interests/cell number/sexual orientation to critic@critic.co.nz.
Kurt
I like alcohol, and I like women. So when the opportunity came up for a free bar tab, and a date with a woman I couldn’t say no. After discussing escape strategies/having mates on SOS standby I headed off to Toast. The bartender was a bit of a GC, telling me about the previous people who had done it. He informed me that the girl the week before had been a model, which I was gutted I had missed out on. But he also said she was a real bitch and the ginger was a nice guy so don’t be too gutted champ. When my date walked in she looked pretty cute, but to be fair it was kind of dark. She was from Christchurch, lived in North East Valley and studied sociology, which usually isn’t a good start but she seemed nice and was easy to talk to (helped by the shakers/doubles etc). The bartender, sensing an increase in awkward silences, gave us both very, very heavy gin and tonic doubles which really kicked the night off.
After finishing the bar tab we continued to Craic where the alcohol really started kicking in. I was really quite drunk, and trying to hold an intelligent conversation was becoming a harder and harder task. I had to hold myself back from my usual town one-liners such as “Gis a hoon” and “mine or yours tonight?” because she didn’t seem like my typical Monkey Bar girl. The Bog was our final stop where we went through a couple of jugs and were entertained by a Scottish beat-boxing rapper. I was keen to keep going, but she wanted to go home so I asked her to walk me back to mine (no way was I walking her back to NEV). Not wanting to give up a “ride on the magic pony”, I pulled out my trustworthy Brimstone moves and we ended up hooking up on the way back to mine. When she decided to “cum” inside to call a taxi, I thought I must be in. Expecting her to make a beeline straight for my room, I was surprised when all she did was head to the lounge and call a taxi. My flatmates, hearing a girl’s voice, came out shirtless and decided to come for a look/participate in some lunch cutting. However, after a brief stay at the flat, she decided to meet her taxi and, being the gentleman I am, I decided to walk her the 200m to where she was meeting it. We exchanged numbers before she left and, deflated, I went home to watch some Pirates and finish the night on a high.
Courtney
Lucky me, getting to go on a date on what has been undoubtedly the coldest night yet (seriously guys, SUMMER lovin’?). The frigid conditions made selecting an outfit especially difficult; how can a girl manage to pull off a sexy-yet-not-trying-to-look-like-she’s-trying-to-be-sexy outfit when masked with a puffer jacket?
Good thing about Toast on a Tuesday; it’s pretty obvious who your date is (a good looking blondie, lucky me!). Immediately it strikes me we have something in common, both of us being compulsive nervous chatterers. We blurted and shotted our way through our bar tab in about twenty minutes tops and ordered two gin and tonics. IMPORTANT TO NOTE: TOAST GIN AND TONICS ARE TOXIC! We both reminisced about being young and fresh and getting alcohol poisoning. Oh the salad days.
After finishing up our toxic G&Ts (seriously, I think they were straight gin), we barhopped to the Craic for a couple of pints and captivating discussion about the political state of America, unionism and Kim Jon-Il on a horse. I think we scared the lovely bar lady a bit with our “fuck the tea party!” and our “fuck the privatisation of ACC!” I love a guy who can talk dirty…
We then hopped along to the Bog for what was undoubtedly the awesomest thing of the night. I was pretty disappointed to see it was open mike night. This quickly changed when a Scottish beat-boxer managed to beat –box his way through what seemed like a twenty minute medley of songs. A-MAZING. And, finally, after realising exactly how late it was and exactly how much we’d had to drink, my courteous date walked me to a taxi. There was no way I was walking home in the freezing weather. All in all, Critic I take my hat off to you for a wicked date, setting me up with a wicked guy and introducing me to Toast G&Ts. xx
Summer Lovin' - 7
