Dec and David

Linda Evangelista wouldn’t get out of bed for less than £10,000 and I won’t fire up my ailing MacBook on a Saturday for two town mice saying ‘no, you, please, I want you to have it’ over the last duck pancake in the O2 Arena branch of Banana Tree. Luckily, this week it’s two men and the headline was thus:

So here we are.

The bios say that Dec left) is 31, and a culture and sex writer, while David (right), 34, is a children’s doctor. What could possibly go right? Read the date in full on the Guardian website and then return here for the beheadings.

Dec | David

What were you hoping for?
A sweet-hearted madman who would make me belly laugh.

What kind of madman – it’s rather important, no? Axe-wielding? Ken Dodd-vibes magician with no convictions but lots of gossip circulating? One who would spritz fart spray onto a ‘sorry you’re leaving’ card at the office? Careful what you wish for.

What were you hoping for?
Someone who put me at ease, asked me questions and made me want to text my friends about him in the toilet.

Very glad David used ‘in’ not ‘on’, there.

First impressions?
Looked like a David. A bit nervous and jittery, but considerate, curious and chatty (all the best C-words).

Looked like a David? Which one? Tennant? Beckham? Michelangelo’s? Duchovny? Schwimmer? He actually looks like a David I worked with about 25 years ago, by which I mean he also had red hair.

First impressions?
Definitely a main character. Handsome, potty-mouthed, charming and equally clueless about tapas.

I must go full disclosure here and say I once met Dec at a book launch and he seemed very nice and funny. I don’t remember mentioning that I write these reviews – I never do, unless asked! – so I don’t know if he’s aware of them. I would say ‘main character’ is an accurate read and I don’t mean that in a horrible way.

However, how can you be clueless about tapas? First day on Earth, boys?

What did you talk about?
People in cars shouting “ginge” at him. Us coming from the West Country (but only I sound like it). How I don’t like Clapham gays – guess where he lives?

Dec’s love of swearing. Coming out.

People in cars shouting “ginge” at him – If you have ever shouted anything from a car at anyone, other than ‘I love your outfit’, then I can exclusively reveal that you are a  ✨c u n t. Don’t ever do it. Like when people would shout ‘GAY!’ at me from a passing car (or van, tbh), it’s like ‘I know, who are you telling?!’ Why do you want me to know that you’ve clocked me? It’s not for nice reasons is it? I don’t know David but I do know that if you shouted at him from a car, I hate you and I wish you nothing but a fresh paper cut on each of your thumbs every morning when you wake.

How I don’t like Clapham gays – Ooh, you know when they close Grindr and someone explains to them what Dec has said using emojis and Real Housewives references, the Clapham Gays are going to be furious – their foreheads might even twitch!
Just kidding! Gay men who live in Clapham get a bad rep, but there is something about that bustling little London satellite that attracts a certain iteration of queer folk. I don’t know what. Megan’s? Gail’s? Oliver Bonas? Anyway my only contact with Clapham over the last 20 years since I stopped socialising there has been walking over the common to go somewhere else or that time I had my ears hoovered out by a woman whose chewing gum fell out of her mouth and onto my chest.

Most awkward moment?
I tried on his stethoscope, pretending to listen for a heartbeat from the chicken.

I can’t believe it’s taken me all these years to feature this ancient text. The best part for me is the fingers hooked round the car keys, the elite stance of someone who couldn’t be arsed taking her handbag into Asda.

Most awkward moment?
Possibly when I realised I had a child’s blood on my trousers.

Richard the Third wrote this reply on David’s behalf.

Good table manners?
Sound as a pound.

Impeccable.

Best thing about them?
His passion for his profession. Also, how he was so keen to ask, listen and hear.

He’s very free and at ease in himself, and made me feel I could be too. And his autobiography will be a bestseller.

This is nice isn’t it – aspects of your personality being lauded will never grow old. In the romance stakes, it’s a bank statement, but being complimented not just on who you are, but how you make another person feel is no shambles of an evening.

Would you introduce David to your friends?
Possibly, so they can give him his second Buzzballz ever!

I’m (mildly) fascinated by BuzzBallz because they’re such a strange gimmick. Cocktails, but round! So really difficult to sneak into Inferno’s! Also the flavours sound like Tinky Winky and Richard Burton collaborated on the naming. But I wish all their devotees well.

Would you introduce Dec to your friends?
I would. But I didn’t toilet-text them.

Describe David in three words
Moustached, kind, grounded.

MOUSTACHED, like Frida Kahlo.
KIND, like a Clapham Gay offering to pay for you to have your fillers dissolved.
GROUNDED, like a Clapham Gay would describe their coffee beans.
(Only joking! I literally know nothing about Clapham Gays these days – maybe they’re all intellectuals.)

Describe Dec in three words
Curious, beautiful, free.

CURIOUS, like a guy in a bar who is obviously with his girlfriend but has looked at you four times. And not just brief glances, but really taking you in, full length, starting low and panning up to your face. He doesn’t smile, he doesn’t frown, he’s just drinking you in like your face is a Carrot ‘n’ Jet Fuel flavour Buzzballz and he’s trying to read the ingredients off the back. Weird.
BEAUTIFUL, like… is this guy good-looking or is it just that he’s looking at you so intently that makes you appraise him so positively? Nobody really looks at you like that these days, not since you changed your hair and had your ‘elevens’ Juvadermed, but he is definitely looking, and somehow his curiosity makes him more beautiful. Strange.
FREE, like the three lines of coke the staring man manages to tap off you every time you go to the toilet. He’s ‘really cool with gay guys’, but that’s as far as it goes. The bus journey home feels longer and lonelier than usual.

And … did you kiss?
I gave him a polite peck on the cheek when we hugged bye-bye.

A quick peck at the station.

Not the pecking.

If you could change one thing about the evening, what would it be?
We were side-by-side at the bar, which is weird for a first date. And he got my right side, which is definitely less good.

I quite like sitting side by side – it feels close and conspiratorial and you can both stare out into the restaurant and slag off the same people. But I suppose if you want to gaze into their eyes or give them a toe-job (assuming you are somehow in the 1970s) then it doesn’t really work.

Marks out of 10?
A solid 6. He’s a cracking bloke and rocks a floral shirt better than anyone I know. It’s a 6 not a 7 because I don’t like fish or salad; he kindly ordered me both.

A six! And not just a six, but a six that comes with smallprint. It doesn’t matter if the six is ‘solid’ or not – hammers are quite solid when they whack you over the head – it’s still a zero.

Marks out of 10?
8.

This seems more realistic. If you like each other but not ‘like that’ then it has to be a 7 or 8. Although a 7 is really a 1 under the ancient GBD scoring system but maybe we have no gone metric and it’s an 11. Who knows?

Would you meet again?
We swapped numbers. We’re not each other’s “spark”, but had a good evening.

We agreed the chemistry felt more friendly than romantic, but I’d love to stay in touch.

Oh well. A new friend made is never a waste of time. Although it does mean one space fewer on Clapham Common next summer.

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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. And let me know your favourite BuzzBallz flavour.

Dec and David ate at Barrafina Drury Lane, London WC2. Fancy a blind date? Email blind.date@theguardian.com