Wolf
Being an aspiring historian it was with great gusto that I honoured the tradition of pre-loading before the date, ably helped by a choice glass or four of vino with a few mates.The impending hour having been reached, I tottered on down to Di Lusso, avoiding pissed freshers knocking over bins, with five minutes to spare. Perusing the menu whilst waiting for my date, it wasn’t long before a cute brunette in a black leather jacket and patterned dress shyly walked in. Bingo.
Sitting at the bar with our drinks on order, we exchanged the usual small talk, which soon got well underway into easy conversation that didn’t slow up until we left the restaurant. After finishing equally excellent meals with further conversation we made a quick sojourn into Mac’s Bar before heading north. With the weather as a deciding factor it was with quick feet and cold hands that we made our way back to a certain named flat near a certain bar habited by the best of student society. One or more rounds of introduction were needed to her flatmates due to inebriation brought on by joining in a red card since late that morning, and we hung out in their living room for a good couple of hours as I was put under interrogation by the girls. The rest of the night was spent talking with her flatties about topics ranging from how hot a shared law tutor from last year was, to whether one takes pingers orally or otherwise. Great chat. By midnight most were off to continue their party in town, my date was ready for bed, and I was ready to see the bottom of my opened wine. After a quick goodbye and a hug, I left my date to sneak upstairs and sleep off her day’s efforts, whilst I re-joined my mates and played catch-up. Still haven’t finished the fucking bottle (working on it as I write).
An obligatory cheers goes to Critic for the date, and an especially big one to the staff at Di Lusso for the great service and excellent drinks and food.
Red
This date was bound to fail. I had a red card at 11am, ensuring I was sloshed by 7pm, and leaving me with half an hour to stress over the awkward conversations that were about to happen. As I didn’t want to be the one to turn up late and awkwardly stumble in to Di Lusso, I made sure I would be there at 7.30 sharp. To my surprise, my date was already sitting at a table with drink in hand – although he did look like a guy that was used to coming early.After ordering a strong margarita, the conversation was restricted to generic small talk and shit yarns. It got to the point where I was so heavily intoxicated that I was agreeing to everything he was saying. Our meals arrived and he had ordered pork that was half bleeding on his plate. My disgust was evident because I couldn’t hide the audible gagging noises.
Once I downed my last drink I gapped to the toilet to try set up an escape plan with my flatties. When I staggered back out to the table, within 5 minutes the waitress brought over a hot chocolate. This confirmed my initial thought of him being a 50-year-old trapped in a 19-year-old’s body. He politely offered me a marshmallow, which I quickly rejected while hiding my look of confusion.
After waiting for him to finish his hot beverage, he suggested we make our way to Brew Bar to get another drink. This was all well and good, until we both ordered and I was left to pay. As the date was going downhill faster than the alcohol was, he proceeded to ask if I wanted to go back to his. As I knew he was clearly not a rinser like myself, I turned down the offer saying there were already drinks at my house. It was apparent that I had made the wrong decision as soon as opening the front door; the flat was at full rowdy force. This led to drunken interrogation of his German History studies, during which one of the flat mates asked if he was a Nazi. Unfortunately the interrogation did not deter him and he proceeded to enjoy my Cindy’s until the party died down and finally made his way out.