Secondly. My “first date” consisted of an eight or nine hour bus trip to attend the Perth International Arts Festival. The trip itself involved sharing iPods STACKED with various metal bands (Hoho, love at first sight-of-music-collection) and screaming DEATH TO (insert crappy pop singer’s name here) when they came on over the radio. On a bus full of “art is pretty ponies in the springtime” type girls, this was hilarious.

We ended up in the city, went and saw paintings inspired by Goya (you know him, I’m sure?) which was awesome, fought over paying for food in the “No you do it!” sense, and stayed up all night running around the campus that was apparently once a quarantine site, where thousands of people died in the very same buildings we slept in. We also went to the Fremantle Prison and metal-gasmed all over the epicness of everything.

And that was our first date.