Lewis and Max

Aside from the weeks where somebody I love has died, this week has been one of the most terrible I’ve ever known so – in words that would send a jolt of lightning up both my grandmother’s spines were they still alive – this morning I prioritised yoga and throwing myself into the fresh air, which means today’s Impeccable (which I almost skipped altogether) is an express version. A bit like those Costa Express machines you see in Co-Ops and Sainsbury’s Locals, with the forever gummed-up spouts or ‘out of service’ screen flashing constantly while it makes a noise that sounds like someone trying to sing ‘Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter’ through a tracheotomy hole.

Today: Lewis (left), 26, a digital video executive, meets Max, 23, a business management trainee. Read the full date on the Guardian website and then return, do, for gravy on your mashed potato.

Lewis | Max

What did you talk about?
Our dissociation with the wider queer community, and Max’s desire “to do more gay stuff”.

The simple pleasures of bread and oil, the challenge of making new friends as an adult, and a mutual agreement that we needed to release our food babies from buckled belts.

Dissociation with the wider queer community – does this mean they don’t feel like they fit in, or that they don’t see themselves as being part of it at all? Given Lewis appears to have cleared out Uniqlo on his way to the date, I’m assuming it’s the former. I get this, sadly; I remember being young and feeling like I was bad at being gay because I didn’t really ‘get’ it, and the scene, such as it was, terrified me. Max’s desire to ‘do more gay stuff’ is also relatable. Do I do enough gay things? I went to see the Jane McDonald Christmas concert once and I’ve done a HIIT routine to the Charli XCX album so I think I’m okay. Anyway, I have found that feelings like this usually fade as you age into yourself a bit and realise there is no right or wrong way to be gay, and as long as you’re not horrible to other queer people just because they’re different from you, you’ll be fine.

The challenge of making new friends as an adult – it just gets harder and harder I’m afraid. The true consequence of working from home, perhaps, is that I meet far fewer new people now. And a lot of my friends, the real ones – who know all my secrets but don’t care – have moved away, and I am still here, a relic of a golden age that feels ever more distant as the days pass by. I sometimes wonder what I would have to offer new friendships anyway. I am much funnier on the page and can’t really afford to do all the huge ‘life experiences’ that people insist on doing now. Anyway, like I said, it has been a rough week, can you tell? Hahaha.

Food babies – I am begging you not to make me hate you, lads.

Most awkward moment?
Finding out Max was born post-2000 was a bit sickening …

Please don’t enfogey yourself. Lewis, you were born in 1998 at the earliest, you are not exactly METHUSELAH. I remember NYE 1999 and as the fireworks went full insanity in the sky, I turned to my mum and said, ‘God isn’t it weird that the years will have a 2 in front of them now? I was born last century!’ (‘The new century started in 2001’ purists – do not write in, you are boring.) And she looked back at me, as if noticing for the first time that my head was actually made up of sliced cabbage and said, simply: ‘Is it?’ Exactly. Time passes. People will be younger than you. Years have a ‘2’ at the start of them. It doesn’t mean anything. If Max were sitting there in his school uniform, I’d understand your trepidation.

Most awkward moment?
Watching Lewis explore the pub on his journey to find the bathroom.

Few things more mortifying than not knowing where you were going. This is why so many men would rather be waterboarded than ask a stranger for directions.

Would you introduce Max to your friends?
Max – quite boldly – stated that Gavin & Stacey wasn’t really his thing, so he’s got some atoning to do first.

I think it’s best I don’t say anything.

Describe Max in three words
Kind. Hopeful. Cowboy (yeehaw).

KIND, like Princess Diana helping to load the dishwasher at an orphanage.
HOPEFUL, like a dog who sees you come home with a McDonald’s takeout bag.
COWBOY (yeehaw), like, errrr… Beyoncé’s last album, I guess.

Describe Lewis in three words
Colourful, perceptive, empowered.

COLOURFUL, like a parakeet taking a huge gunge-tank shite on your windscreen.
PERCEPTIVE, like Mystic Meg using your electricity meter reading to predict the lottery numbers.
EMPOWERED, like En Vogue singing ‘Free Your Mind’ at the top of their lungs at the foot of your bed.

If you could change one thing about the evening, what would it be?
That I sat next to Lewis instead of across from him.

I am a biiiiiig fan of sitting next to someone at dinner if there’s just the two of you –or at least in a corner. It’s gossipy, conspiratorial, intimate, and means you can both stare out into the restaurant and drag the rest of the clientele to filth. Downside: neck issues, slouching, difficult to hide from people you can’t stand.

Marks out of 10?
8.

8.

Fairly standard for a non-poking, non-snogging date, so well done everyone.

Would you meet again?
We’re planning on seeing each other in the next couple of weeks.

I would like that.

Good luck guys. Do more gay stuff!

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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 say hello to your mum from me, Max.

Lewis and Max ate at the Landseer, London N19. Fancy a blind date? Email blind.date@theguardian.com