A little while back I was invited to go on a Weaver. It’s pretty much a blind date where you get to bring two of your girlfriends (Weaver calls them ‘wingwomen’) and meet up with three boys. Weaver, however, are quick to insist it’s not a ‘date’ and merely a fun way to meet new friends. To take part, you sign up via Facebook and Weaver uses your profile to match you up with others who have similar interests. Cost-wise, you’re looking at R79 a head and this includes a free drink. For all the nitty gritty details, you can visit their site over here.

So, how did my Weaver work out? First off, it was a helluva thing to find a date that suited three crazy busy girls. Between myself, Karisa and Victoria (my wingwomen), we only found a common free evening about a month after getting the initial invite. I then made the poor Weaver people’s lives a living hell by making all sorts of ridiculous requests including that our ‘dates’ be ‘hot and/or loaded’. But obviously I was only joking. Sort of.

Still, to their credit, Weaver pulled through (Karisa left our date in a Ferrari), but this came with a downside as our dates (Zac, Bevan and Justin, pictured from left to right below) turned out to be people we already knew! This was partly our fault, I guess. If you’re a hot/rich boy in Cape Town, chances are we’re going to have your number.

After a round of champers and cocktails at Orphanage, we decided it was time to let the boys in on our cunning plan. The Weaver peeps had given us their PR, Francie’s, cell number, saying she’d be on standby all night in case we had any dramz so we’d decided to give them a skrik by telling them the date had been a total disaster.

Obviously after a bit of back and forth we eventually fessed up that everyone was indeed having a good time, but only after a small blood vessel exploded in poor Francie’s head.

Anyway, if you’re looking to meet new peeps in threes and aren’t phased by the fact that the boy you like best may well end up flirting with your bestie, going on a Weaver might be worth it. And, at worst, if your date turns out to be absolutely horrendous, you don’t have to call up your girlfriends and give them a play by play of just exactly how bad it was; they’ll have been sitting right next to you the entire time.

Thanks Weaver! And again, a sincere apology to Francie. I do know my friends and I are terrifyingly eccentric, have a warped sense of humour and are lots of hard work and yes, we probably do deserve to die all alone in a cat hair-covered CBD bachelor with an avocado-coloured bathroom.

Love, love

Leigh