You know that saying ‘you either die a hero, or you live long enough to become a villain?’ While I maybe wouldn’t liken my Blind Date experience to that level of drama, let’s just say my date would have remained a hero, if we had parted ways after dinner.
When my friend asked me on a Thursday if I wanted to go on a blind date the next night, I said ‘why not?’ At best, I could meet the love of my life and at worst, awkward chat. Either way, I got a free meal.
I arrived fashionably ten minutes late to my date at Mama Browns and I was initially impressed – my date was cute! Over (several) glasses of wine and burgers, the chat was easy and interesting. At this rate, I was at a happy medium – not the love of my life but definitely no awkward chat in sight.
It was going so well, in fact, that when he suggested we go and grab another drink, I quickly said yes. We chatted over a couple of cocktails, and were getting a little drunk, so we were both keen to try out another bar. This is where it went downhill.
I paid for my drink and went to wait outside, but my date was taking a while. Eventually, I saw him dart down the stairs and straight past me. My initial reaction was ‘well fuck, he didn’t even try to ditch me subtly,’ but as I walked down and caught up with him, he goes to me ‘just keep walking…’ Confused, I looked back, to see the bartender running after us, saying ‘bro, you need to pay for your drink!’
I definitely believe that men shouldn’t have to pay for the entire date - but I also believe women shouldn’t have to pay for the entire thing either. So having to tell your date to wait there, follow a smirking bartender and pay for your date’s drink after he tried to gap…felt a little off. Whatever I had been impressed about was gone and, after exchanging numbers, I said goodnight and headed home with my flatmate and a slice of Tommy Millions.
Here is my conclusion: if we had parted ways after Mama Browns’ the date would have been a 9/10, with a second date on the cards. Unfortunately, like I said earlier, you either die a hero, or live long enough to become the villain. And that villain looks like a 5/10 date and a $16 hole in my wallet.
Initially I didn't think I was nervous for the date but I woke up the night before in a cold sweat. Last year I had my heart broken while on exchange and I hadn’t been on a date since.
I went into Mama Brown’s two and a half Haagen’s deep. After arriving before her, I sat down in a cubicle. The second she walked in I knew it was her. I know it’s cliché but when I saw her, time slowed and the restaurant went quiet. I could hear my own heart beating. I drank four mimosas, she drank Sav, and the conversation flowed like honey. However, I kept having to go to the restroom. I was worried that she thought I had a weak bladder but, in truth, I was calling my mum. My mum is my rock and I had to tell her about this girl I’d just met.
Afterwards, we went to Library Bar for some more drinks. While my first impression of my date was positive, the more Hennessy I drank the more she looked like Halle Berry. This part is a little fuzzy but when I got up to pay my card declined. I told the bartender I would transfer some money but subtly gestured to my date that I had paid and it was time to go. We fled down the stairs and I was giddy with the thrill of it. I had finally found the Bonnie to my Clyde. As we were almost out of sight, I felt a hand on my shoulder and spun around. “Oi, you need to pay for your drink,” the bartender barked.
I turned to my date and confessed that I didn't have the funds. This wasn't the life I promised her. She offered to go back and pay. When she returned she asked me why I did what I did. I looked into her eyes and thought of all the things to say. All the wonderful, extraordinary things. But I decided not to say them. And that’s when I kissed her.
Please text me back.