Ryan
After one too many angry hand jobs, and some chick at Unipol giving me a boner, I decided that it was time for me to try my luck on a blind date. I mean, if it could lead to two randy lesbos scissoring in the link toilets, then surely it would mean I could at least get a gobbie, willing or not.As a gay guy in Dunedin, you come across a lot of uglies and batshit crazies. So in prep for my date, I had a bit too much tequila (expecting him to look a whole lot less attractive than he was) and I hope I wasn’t slurring my words too much … can’t quite remember. (If you are reading this Mr Blind Date, for that I am sorry.) I slyly walked into Tokyo Garden, half expecting to see a turd rolled in glitter, wondering why the hell I had agreed to do this, and, BAM, he was late. I had assumed he’d be running on gay time, so I had another beer.
Eventually I turned around to see two hotties standing at the counter: One was my much-better-dressed-than-myself date, and the other was a certain babin’ Critic editor (Mr Stockman, how you doin’?). Sadly Stockman was just dropping off the wine, and quickly left. After some witty banter with Mr Well Dressed, and a few rounds of “God Save the Queen” I was impressed.
As the night went on, flirting became less and less subtle until neither of us could stand up without obvious tent action. We conversed about everything ranging from “what we study” to what a Donkey Punch was (he had no idea). Eventually we went back to his – with a cheeky pash on the uni campus on the way – met his flatties, who of course were all totally aware of what was going to happen, and off to the bedroom we went. All I’m going to say is that everything after that was very Sean Cody. Thank you Critic – I did the walk of shame at 7am this morning, I had forgotten that bittersweet sense of victory.
Thanks!
Ricky
I will admit, I was a bit nervous about meeting a complete stranger in a restaurant; normally I would at least like to see a pic of them. In my nervousness I somehow convinced myself that multiple shots would start the night off nicely as I desperately hoped he wasn’t one of those effeminate types, with loose wrists and a lisp.I walked into the restaurant and spotted him straight away, sitting alone at a table without a bottle of wine – Joe the GC personally brought that for us (although red wine is vile). I’m not gonna lie, my heart skipped a beat, he was cute! So I sat down introduced myself and the wine and conversation started to flow.
After the food which I wasn’t that interested in we decided to head out for some more drinks. Had a couple of rounds at the Bog then after some glances and less-than-subtle eye-fucking we both decided it was time to head somewhere. I lived the closest so we walked to mine, through uni campus. Had a romantic kiss under one of the trees near St Daves and some less than romantic groping and fumbling; this is when I discovered he was pretty hung!
I thought of the lube and condoms I had laid out at home (of course, I was prepared). We arrived at mine and I had an awkward moment fumbling to get the key in the lock, then entered the lounge to find my flatmates watching TV. After some awkward hellos I hurried him up to my room. We were both a bit drunk at this point but decided another shot wouldn’t hurt; we decided to go for the vodka, next thing I know he’s out of his shirt, now I had a raging hard-on and quickly pulled off my own t-shirt.
Somehow the shots were forgotten as we started hooking up. Next thing I knew we were on the bed and his hands were at my crotch, he was a bit clumsy now and I think the alcohol made us both unco, but we still managed and, well, I don’t think I need to say what happened next. Thanks heaps Critic – found me a hotty and even if he doesn’t call I’ll still have that memory.