Each week, we lure two singletons to The Captain Cook Hotel, give them food and drink, then wait for their reports to arrive in our inbox. If this sounds like you, email critic@critic.co.nz. But be warned--if you dine on the free food and dash without sending us a writeup, a Critic writer will write one under your name. And that won’t end well for you.
Posh
I think that I am a person that people wouldn’t normally expect to go on blind dates. Honestly, I love the idea and I love being set up, but I am always a bit off the mark in preparation. I didn’t pregame as hard as I should have. And the bartender couldn’t make an Old Fashioned. And I got there first. I hadn’t been too nervous before, but the night seemed like it wasn’t off to a great start, so I nabbed a stout and sat down to wait. Yes, I got there first, but he wasn’t that far behind me. When he sat down, I didn’t know quite what to think or expect, but I try to stray from relying on first impressions.
Surprisingly, he ordered the beer that I got. Disappointingly, he didn’t like it. Perhaps because he had been sipping on some Flames. But, even before we downed the beers, the conversation was rolling pretty well and stayed that way with few, if any, awkward pauses. Quickly I knew he was a nice guy, funny, a good sport about the whole thing, and most definitely a drinker (who was ready to keep rolling on his tax refund – a chivalrous offer in itself). Early on in the course of conversation I could tell that we were quite different in interests, maturity, etc. However, we got to know each other pretty well and he may have shattered his Prosecco glass in the booth; I did take part of it as a memento.
We ordered a bit late. The food was fantastic, but I did have to take a doggy bag, which made an even better breakfast. Then, however, we left pretty early to go meet his flat. I am a good sport, so when he wanted to pretend I couldn’t speak any English and that the night had gone terribly I played along for about a cool minute before feeling too awkward to continue and settling into some normal conversation.
Alas, I headed back early with nothing exciting to report between me and my date, though things got a bit cheeky later on with a good friend of mine. I swear that I did actually have an exam the next morning! My date was a lovely guy and would likely be a fantastic drinking buddy!
Becks
After sadly drinking a box of Flamès by myself, while playing Don Bradman Cricket, I foolishly looked at the time to see that my date was to start in twenty minutes and I hadn’t yet showered or left the house. I washed, put two pairs of socks on and got the chick I had been unsuccessfully spading for the last two months to drop me off. I arrived, quietly pissed, five minutes late and found my date already waiting for me. The words of a drunken text I sent to my flatmates would be the best way to describe this girl: “Hot.21.awmefian. Going to slam.” Unfortunately I found out that failing to produce urine before leaving the house was a poor idea and that much liquid has to come out at some point. Making the foolish mistake of wearing beige pants and having poor aim, I spent most of the night hiding the fact that I had pissed on my pants. Whether or not she noticed this is still a mystery to me. Memory began to fade from this point onward. I remember conversation was good and that she was hot, but a lot else is a bit of a blur. After deciding to get a doggy bag the rest of our feed we gapped it back to mine. We unsuccessfully tried to convince my flatmates that she was Spanish and spoke no English and ended up cracking open a cheeky Flamè. To my flatmates disbelieve I appeared to be in, ready to seal the deal. But that’s when it went downhill. To my disgust she tried to convince the flat that dark beer was much better and I subsequently decided to kick her out of my house. Any chick that thinks that needs their head read. She left, citing a Māori test the next morning as her excuse and I decide to go and spade the chick who dropped me off. But after finding her door locked and the sounds of pleasure that I couldn’t offer coming from her room, I decided to finish off my box and do the only reasonable thing; make the most of $2 pies at night and day. The night was coming to a close and I decided to make the lonely walk home, all the while attempting to finesse freshers via multiple social media platforms. In the end the night finished when I did; who needs a girl to do it for you anyway? Cheers Critic, you gave me a chance and I let you down.