Clemmie and Joe

This week on Extreme Tinder: Clemmie, 27, a television writer, meets Joe, 28, a civil servant.

Read the full account of the date in the Guardian. Return below for the brisk skewering.

Clemmie | Joe

What were you hoping for?
A Hollywood romance story to tell the grandkids. Also, that he wouldn’t judge me for ordering pizza (I’d studied the restaurant menu in advance).

To have a meet-cute story good enough for a Hallmark movie.

Sorry, but for a *Hollywood* romance one of you will have to be a maid/waiter/doe-eyed sex worker/teacher with a heart of gold and the other will have to be a billionaire/prince/misunderstood ice maiden/villain with a heart of gold. And for a Hallmark movie, you’ll need a family business on the brink of closure, a motherless child with disturbingly Aryan features, Christmas in a small town that appears to have no public transport, and someone who was in Mean Girls/10 Things I Hate About You/Eldorado who you can’t quite place.

First impressions?
I was relieved to see that it wasn’t my ex, also called Joe.

This is called foreshadowing, by the way.

What did you talk about?
How young his parents were when they had kids (three by 30!). Working in the TV industry. His running club.

Anecdotes from both working as TV researchers. Places in South America we’d visited. And I gave lots of east London recommendations as she’s moving to my neck of the woods.

How young his parents were when they had kids – Oh I don’t know, where I’m from it’s quite normal but I suppose if Joe’s parents are around my age (just let me pause here to breathe deeply into a paper bag) them I suppose it’s rarer.

Working in the TV industry/ Anecdotes from both working as TV researchers – it’s giving ‘generational wealth’.

Most awkward moment?
Having to send the waiter away a few times because we were talking too much to look at the menu.

Oh, one of the biggest mistakes you can ever make. I love attentive service but sometimes you get someone whose personality ethos is ‘wasp at a picnic’ and won’t stop coming over. However, send one away asking for ‘just another couple of minutes’ and you will never see them again. They might drop by your deathbed, maybe, and ask if you’ve picked your starters yet. Otherwise, you’ve missed your chance.

When she said I looked like one of her exes. And then again when she said I looked like another one of her exes.

I don’t really understand why you would do this!
‘Oh you know who you look like?’
‘Hmm, dunno?’ *hopes and prays she says Jake Gyllenhaal or Jacob Elordi.
‘Some guy you’ve never met – also called Joe – who I used to shag but don’t anymore and never want to again.’
‘…’

Describe Joe in three words
Sweet, easygoing and intelligent.

Sweet, like her ex.
Easygoing, like her ex.
Intelligent, like her ex, except maybe he wasn’t that intelligent, eh, because where is he now, huh? SHe’s here eating for free in a restaurant with a boyish civil servant, a clutch of new Tinder pics about to go live thanks to the Guardian photoshoot, and where’s this other Joe now, eh? Sitting at home not thinking about her at all, probably.

Describe Clemmie in three words
Engaging, charming and funny.

Engaging, when the colonoscopy tube edges in for its first inch of MANY.
Charming, like OTHER JOE OH WHY OH WHY CAN’T I BE OTHER JOE AND THEN SHE WILL LOVE ME.
Funny, like I am trying to be with the thinnest gruel of source material.

And … did you kiss?
Not on a school night …

No, we shared a pleasant hug.

Oh are you still at school? At 27? Still trying to pass that General Studies A-level, are we? A hug is only pleasant until you realise you are pressing your body against the body of a stranger, your ribs making contact, your hearts and your lungs and your bladders only centimetres from each other, and if there was some kind of ‘nuclear event’ right that minute, your bodies would be fused together and, should humanity survive, some archaeological spod from the future would dust at your bones with a pastry brush and proclaim that you were lovers who clung to each other for comfort in your final moments when really all you were doing is hugging goodbye outside an All Bar One.

She scored him a 9, he scores her a 7 – a point knocked off for each ex, I assume.

Would you meet again?
For sure, we’ll probably bump into each other running around our local park.

I had a very enjoyable evening, though sadly there was no romantic spark. But we’ll be living near each other soon so it’s likely we’ll bump into each other.

Translation: no.

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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. Which Joe do you like best?

Joe and Clemmie ate at Rossella, London NW5. Fancy a blind date? Email blind.date@theguardian.com