Critic Blind Date | Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth

Critic Blind Date | Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth

The hopeful lovers on the Critic Blind Date are provided with a meal and a bar tab, thanks to Mamacita. If you’re looking for love and want to give the Blind Date a go, email blinddate@critic.co.nz

 


 

Mr. Darcy

I had no idea what to expect. But, to build up some courage my flatty and I downed a few beers to send me off, and a good long pull from a bottle of sweet berry wine. 

I could see a lone girl in a window seat of the restaurant as I approached, knowing that my fashionably late entrance was right on time. She was very cute, shy in appearance with a cute smile and a cheeky top on. A friendly hug introduced us and we immediately dove into conversation. The chat was wonderful, full of back and forth, without a breath of awkwardness or forced conversation. 

Our talk was waxing and shifted toward what, if any, things we could do after dinner. There were a few parties going on, but my dancing feet weren’t rockin’ and neither were hers, it seemed. She said that her friend was coming to pick her up and she invited me back with her! We drove the 10 minutes from the Octagon having a good laugh with two of her flattys.

A few more drinks ensued back at her place with some more banter. The conversation was clearly still on an upward trajectory and the questions more personal: past relationships, bests and worsts, this and that, tit for tat - all cute and fun. A first-class kiss was the next logical step and it followed without delay. Anything further would have to be a tale for the love elegists among us:)

Thank you Critic for setting up a great date and thank you to my date for being excellent and enjoyable!

\

 

Elizabeth

Buckle your seatbelts y’all, I am going to recount for you the experience of my post-climatic-orgasmic-love-drunk-hungover recollection of my blind date. Live vicariously through me as I explain to you how his American twang gave me fanny flutters like you wouldn’t believe. My experience began at 2pm on the day, when I was emailed last minute informing me I’d be taking someone’s place, giving me no time to dread the potentially awkward encounter I could be facing.  

I was the first to arrive and the friendly staff calmed my nerves, as I waited for my fashionably late date to arrive. Turns out I didn’t need to be nervous at all. We instantly connected and conversation was flowing. He was intelligent, well travelled and compassionate, his eyes locked on me the WHOLE night making my heart race. He tempted me to move closer, which left me dripping with anticipation.

As the restaurant was closing, I timidly invited him over for some drinks back at my flat. My flatmates picked us up in the torrential rain, and he was not shy introducing himself to all five of them. He was eager to watch me take a load through my funnel (Smirnoff) and I made him do the same. He was gentle (for the time being) as we got closer, getting more and more intoxicated.

He used my watch as an excuse to touch me, building the tension (bit obvious mate). He made the first move, it was a new sensation to feel a moustache tickle my neck.

He then confidently told me “this should be taken upstairs.”

Take me on a trip, I'd like to go some day.
Take me to New York, I'd love to see LA.
I really want to come kick it with you.
You'll be my American Boy.
This article first appeared in Issue 8, 2019.
Posted 5:53pm Thursday 11th April 2019 by Critic.