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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.
Hugh Hefner
 
Date night: I decided to show up early after a quick trim of the beard, a shower and a coating of Armani. I even put a shirt on. I was a little apprehensive, but the GC bartender assured me that “no real hairy creeps” had shown up so far.

 
Toast was unusually busy for a Tuesday night so it took a while to realise that the blondie sitting next to me was my date, not just another random. After introductions and handing over the bar-tab, we got a beer and moved our chat to a booth.

 
In hindsight, the stumbling over some invisible object midway to our table should have given me the hint that my date was trashed. However, her inebriation became somewhat obvious when I went for a second round (this time a Toast G&T). As my date began a combination of hitting on other randoms, singing to barely existent music and swaying from side-to-side, the bartender offered to make mine a “triple” and my date’s “just a single”. Other helpful suggestions from patrons on where the nearest exit was also ensued. Bravely ignoring the calls of “bail bro” and “ditch the %$&#@'”, I returned with drinks to continue our “conversation”.

 
This round got interesting. Nuggets such as “omg you're so my Brad Pitt” and “so after we have sex, will you be my boyfriend?” helped set the 'mood'. It was during this period that we realised that we lived opposite each other. Twenty metres away. Like actually.
 

Anna-Nicole left for a half-hour toilet break, during which, another girl (complete babe) took my date's spot opposite me. It turns out that Anna-Nicole’s entire flat was “tag-teaming” me. By the time my date returned (drunker than ever), I had managed another two dates. She brought back a couple more drinks; another G&T for me and a virgin vodka and lemonade for her (it would seem that she had been cut from the bar). The lemonade seemed to further intoxicate Anna-Nicole who rushed to the bathroom, again for a lengthy stay, leading to more drinks for me!

 
The night at Toast finally ended after Anna-Nicole was found comatose in the bathroom by her flatmate, who appeared to have the situation under control. One of them walked her out whilst I stayed for my final few drinks then followed my date's remaining flatmates to The Bog for open mic night, enjoyed some midnight Maccas and then we all marched back to our respective places for a 1am bedtime.
 

The next morning at 9.30am a very sheepish (and hungover) Anna-Nicole knocked on my door, her flatmates hanging out the window laughing as she apologised, asked for a second date and offered to buy me lunch.
 

Was the date a success? 50 bucks worth of alcohol and a free lunch? I think so. Thanks Critic!

 
P.S. I might be moving house soon. Funny that...

 
 
Anna-Nicole Smith  
I had a few before I went to the date, just to calm the nerves. Little did I know that my alcohol tolerance had decreased since the night before and with a lack of food in my system, I was dying for $50 worth of food.

I walked to the bar and a strapping young lad asked me if I was there for the date. We got chatting and immediately I knew he was the ONE I had been searching for, so I wasted no time in asking him to be my boyfriend. He politely declined but in my mind I knew that by the end of the night he would be mine with a little help from my good friend Rohypnol. I slipped the little pill of love into his drink as we walked over to the table.

We started to get to know each other with the usual icebreaker questions. This is about the point when my memory begins to fade; apparently he had had the same idea to use the old date rape drug to his advantage. Either that or our drinks were swapped, which would explain a lot.
 
I went to the bathroom but unfortunately the locks on the bathroom doors at Toast are a bit dodgy and I managed to lock myself in. Awkward. But being someone who likes to make the most of every situation, I took this opportunity to have a quick nap. During this time my safety conscious flatmates must have turned up to make sure I was safe (blind dates can be very dangerous!). They heard I had gone to the toilet and not come out, so being the kind and caring people they are, they came and freed me from my prison that was the Toast men’s toilet.
 
The staff at Toast decided it was time for me to go, much to my date’s disappointment. To make up for the second-rate ending to my night I went to his house early the next morning and asked him on a second date. He accepted, of course, so we are heading out to lunch later; how exciting. What I most enjoy about the whole situation is that I can see right into his bedroom from mine and he can never escape my prying eye. Thanks Critic for setting me up with my sexy, sexy neighbour.