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Leo
With a recently acquired free pass to a blind date it was emphatic that it should be dished out to our friend Uncle Gary. Ol’ Gary has hit a bit of a dry spot with the tottie. Plus recently drying off for the season with the intention “no more booze for you Uncle Gaza”. Gary seemed rather enthusiastic about the experience, receiving texts early one morning: “Uncle Keithy, can I really go on this blind date?”-Yes Uncle Gary.
It was settled. We waited outside the rendezvous point of the date making sure he turned up. Nerves hit the poor sod, in came the texts of freak out. In reply reassuring texts of his mana were sent. Finally Uncle Gary arrived, with fear itself on his handsome unshaven mug.
We followed in five mins later, with sound recording equipment attached. Fetishising a notion of making a concrete sound piece of Uncle Gary on a blind date in an Indian Restaurant, alas the acoustics didn't allow.
Trying to keep in character yet being amused by the chastely voyeur sight of the despairing face of Uncle Gary at his seat with his potential paramour. Politely digesting whatever pleasantries one dribbles on a blind date with seedy creature eyes emerging from the night, yet reassuring like a womb. We were aroused. At that note we left, musing over the situation that our dear Uncle Gary was in. We were off into our comfy beds.
Then came the texts ... Apparently Uncle Gary had fallen off the wagon.
“It's all because of this blind date. I'm drunk” Once again, reassuringly texts were sent in reply. With a reminder that a report was to be written in the morning about his outing.
“Can't do the writing. Broke my arm ***** her in Little India.” Uncle Gary replied.
- Okay then, what have you got to say about the date? “She was a fat funny boiling hose beast dressed in a garbage sack.” Do you want to be quoted on that? “My balls are shriveled up forever after that nightmare frightmare date from hell. You can quote me on that one.”
Kate
I arrived at Little India, and approached the staff to tell them that I was there for the blind date. They seated me next to a group of about 12 people so it was really loud, I waited, 7.00pm hit, then 7.05pm, I was getting a bit more nervous as time went on... finally at 7.15pm a casually dressed guy came into the restaurant and the wait staff indicated towards my table.
He came over and introduced himself, and said I have a bottle of wine! Cool... he sat down and, we started talking. I asked him what he does he replied ... “Musician”. In my head I thought Ohhhk... that means you're unemployed ... Oh well, each to their own. He looked a lot older than I was, and then I was informed that he had a five year old son. I tried to keep the chatter up, asking what his interests were, and if he went to university. He didn't. I finally came to the awkward conclusion that he wasn't the one that was meant to be on the date. He later informed me that indeed he wasn’t and that his friend was, but he had chickened out.
We ordered our food, and after him plying me with a few glasses of wine, to his one, I started having an alright time. We found that we had some friends in common, and just continued to talk about music. I was feeling that the blind date was going better than it had at the start.
We finished our meal, he didn't really eat his food claiming he didn't have an appetite, and it seemed he was just interested in plying me with more alcohol. I told him I had work the next day, so we left Little India around 8.20pm. We got outside, to my surprise he then informed me that his friend that was meant to go on the date was actually in Little India as well that night, maybe trying to make things awkward. I thought that was really creepy and told him he had really weird friends. Guys these days need to grow some balls! And then I walked off. Thanks Critic for the free feed, and to the staff at Little India, the meal was great!