Alan and Robert

Will the first date of November give us something to remember? Only one way to find out. Ducking for apples this week are Alan, 33, a marketing manager and on the left, and Robert, 30, who is a doctor and, obviously, on the right.

Slide on over to the Guardian website to read what happened on the date and then return here for the debrief.

Alan | Robert

What were you hoping for?
To get out of the usual apps-based dating at the very least – and maybe even the start of something great.

The apps really do seem to making everyone miserable. What a brave new world it seemed at first, perusing grids of friendly faces – or other body parts – as if standing in front of a leisure centre vending machine. But as with most revolutions, the novelty wore off and people began to miss the head that had been guillotined in the basket, and the trouble is, you can’t stick it back on. What’s the answer? Go back to speed dating? Dating agencies, watching videos of people trying desperately not to cough talking about how they like going out AND staying in? Matchmaking through interfering parents? Throwing your jacket over a puddle in the vicinity of various heiresses? Isn’t the problem more the way we use the technology rather than the tech itself?

What were you hoping for?
To do something out of my comfort zone and meet someone proper lovely.

Comfort zone parameters are shrinking by the day, aren’t they? It used to be paragliding, or tackling the Krubera Cave in stilettos, or performing a Britney song during Halloween Week on The X Factor. Now it’s going to a restaurant with a stranger.

First impressions?
Calm, friendly and handsome. When we got to the bar it had closed down and it was raining torrentially, which broke the ice. He suggested a bottle of champagne as a first drink which I rated highly.

It had closed down?! You know, the restaurant agrees to pay for the date in exchange for the date in return for a mention in the column, sooooo… did they just change their mind? Is it like when you forget to get in 10,000 mini bags of Haribo for the local children at Halloween so you spend the entire evening sitting in the dark praying your front door doesn’t get egged? Anyway, a bottle of champagne is a fantastic way to start off ANY evening apart from perhaps an Alcoholics Anonymous Christmas party.

First impressions?
Calming and warm energy – he put me at ease straight away.

Alan is half plug-in night light on his mother’s side.

What did you talk about?
Our mutual love of Jessie Ware. Our excitement for the Gavin & Stacey Christmas special. How Rob was voted funniest in his year at school (unsurprising).

There was a lot of deep emotional chat nicely counterbalanced by our shared love of Gavin & Stacey, the pros and cons of solo travelling, our aspirations to be better humans, and a chat about Cilla Black.

Jessie Ware – outing themselves as the kind of guy who pushes in front of you in the toilet queue at Hoopla here.

Excitement over Gavin & Stacey ✅ – Okay, let me just give a long, deep sigh here. I would roll around naked on upturned plugs if Alison Steadman asked me to, but I struggle to think of a show that, through no fault of its own, has burned through its goodwill so definitively thanks to at least one of its cast members. (Also the best character was Doris and the actress who played her died in 2011 so she won’t be in it.)

Our aspirations to be better humans – Well you could always try watching something else on Christmas Day.

Cilla Black – voice like a fire in a pet shop. I love that every attempt at a post-mortem rehabilitation of her ferocious reputation has fallen flat on its arse.

Most awkward moment?
A drunk birthday girl tried to join our date and had to be forcibly removed by her friends. (Happy birthday again, Lauren, wherever you are.)

Oh, LAUREN. I was going to say something quite serious there about people who do things like this and the entitlement they feel over gay(-presenting) couples but have decided against it, but I’m sure you can imagine.

Most awkward moment?
When we turned up to find out the restaurant had permanently closed. But thankfully Alan saved the day and knew a place nearby.

I was quite impressed by the ‘Alan knew a place nearby’ for a moment there – I imagined Alan tapping the breast pocket of his… let’s just say he was tearing a tuxedo, producing a blank card with only a tiny gold embossed symbol upon it (a rainbow, perhaps, or phallus) and saying ‘I know a little place, come with me’ and sweeping Robert into a glamorous private members’ club, signalling to his favourite server, and heading for his favourite table where two martinis awaited.

Then I read on and saw they were eating chicken wings so it was probably the horrifyingly named Slim Chickens or somewhere called Wingz! Wingz! Wingz!

Good table manners?
Absolutely. He kept that champagne glass nicely topped up.

Let’s hope he waited until it was empty before pouring more in! I haven’t had a drink for almost five years but I still remember the crushing disappointment of seeing chilled, fizzy champagne being poured over the flat, warm remains of its ancestors.

Good table manners?
As good as can be when eating fried chicken and chips with special sauce.

Watching someone eat fried chicken on a date is quite the test of attraction, isn’t it? It really could go either way! Personally, I’d rather watch someone take a Brillo pad to their bathroom grouting than testing their gag reflex on a bony, greasy chicken wing but I wish them well.

Best thing about them?
Robert is totally genuine, knows himself and what he stands for. And it would be remiss of me not to mention his 10 out of 10 smile.

Alan seems to know himself well and wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable. The Irish accent is a definite winner, too.

All very good points here, although ‘knows himself and what he stands for’ – I’d love to know what this actually means. Sounds a bit like someone on Facebook who looks like a half-chewed tomato posting under a photo of Robert Jenrick. Am also fascinated by Alan being unafraid of showing vulnerability – did he roll onto his back and allow himself to be tickled like an infamously testy pekinese that finally lets down its guard? Accent fetishism is usually a slightly pinkish flag for me too but I will ALLOW it on the evidence that these two seem like very nice young men.

Describe Robert in three words.
Funny, warm and confident.

Funny, like the scent you can smell for only a second or two when you open your front door after being on holiday for two weeks.
Warm, like the disturbing heat you can feel when sitting in a recently vacated seat and for a moment you’re convinced it’s also wet.
Confident, like a man who’s just drunk a four-shot, whole milk latte out of a Sports Direct mug.

Describe Alan in three words.
Sincere, engaging and kind.

Sincere, like a character in a Jane Austen book who has tried, for a frustrating 174 pages, to express their wish for extra milk in their tea.
Engaging, like a TV in the corner of a pub, showing BBC News 24 on mute. Why are you looking up at it? Why? Why??? WHY??? You can’t tear your eyes away from it, even though you have no idea what the news story is, even though your long-term girlfriend is telling you she’s pregnant, there is something so mesmerising about… what are they talking about, is it maybe the mayor of Grimsby, and parking restrictions, you have no idea, but you keep watching watching watching – and then one of the regulars who shakes like a sh•tting dog and whose arms are a blur of fading stick-and-poke tattoos and cannula bruises reaches up and switches over to a Bulgarian football match and the spell is broken. Your girlfriend has gone.
Kind, like a nun in a film who bears no resemblance to any other nun you have met in your life.

Did you go on somewhere?
We did a bit of bar hopping for as long as they kept letting us in places. Not bad for a school night.

For another drink at a very questionable bar nearby. But the decor was 10 out of 10, as was the company.

We will let the ‘school night’ go because is anyone else feeling the…

And … did you kiss?
We did!

And … did you kiss?
I couldn’t possibly admit that.

If you could change one thing about the evening what would it be?
In hindsight, perhaps I shouldn’t have done my impression or quoted The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills at him quite so much. But seriously, other than wishing we had more time, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Calling it a night a little bit earlier, as we definitely got a bit carried away for a school night. It was worth it though.

God, another ‘school night’ – but isn’t that the beauty of a good date, getting carried away? I don’t mean getting drunk, but allowing the moment to just be a moment, even as deadlines and alarm calls and tortured days at work with splitting headaches, stubble rash, and a tingling tenderness around your fun zones loom over the evening. To push through, to make tonight the most important part, to sweep aside everything that would usually prevent you from having a good time, and simply have it. I don’t know about you, but I am finding the world a difficult place to live at the moment – and it’s been a long moment. You have to grab the good times while you can. Shuffle along the bough of the tree and reach for that tasty golden apple – yes, the branch might break as soon as you get your hands on it, but you have to try. And eat it fast, before you hit the ground.

Marks out of 10?
10. Anyone willing to get to the depths of east London from Oxford to meet a stranger on a rainy Tuesday deserves full marks.

Marks out of 10?
Let’s go all out – it’s a 10 from me.

THE DEPTHS OF EAST LONDON – second only to the McMurdo Ice Shelf in terms of inaccessibility. But it’s a perfect 20 so I am not going to judge.

Would you meet again?
Definitely. I felt a connection, so fingers crossed …

I reckon so. We may have it in the diary already …

Dot dot dot indeed – anyone who reads a Woman’s Realm in the 1980s knows what that tantalising ellipsis is really saying. Well done! The LGBTQ+ crew getting it DONE, as per.

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Something to remember about the review and the daters that I put at the end of every post

The comments I make are based on answers given by participants. The Guardian chooses what to publish and usually edits answers to make the column work better on the page. Most things I say are riffing on the answers given and not judgements about the daters themselves, so please be kind to them in comments, replies, and generally on social media. Daters are under no obligation to get along for our benefit, or explain why they do, or don’t, want to see each other again, so please try not to speculate or fill our feeds with hate. If you’re one of the daters, get in touch if you want to give me your side of the story. Where did you eat?! What was the restaurant that had closed down?!?

Akan and Robert ate at Chicken Cottage, by the sound of it. Fancy a blind date? Email blind.date@theguardian.com