Old habits die hard. Whenever I see my cousin, we unfailingly wind up watching an episode of First Dates. Much like when I’m having a drink, wholly invested in a could-become-couple’s conversation starters and rhythmic nervous laughter: this romantic experiment is impossible not to watch.
Both exquisite and excruciating. And, sure, on-screen the odds are stacked up against these people. It’s a blind date (almost always a bad idea). They’re having dinner (more on that later). It’s broadcast live on television (hellscape). But we see ourselves in these people. The same rules apply in the wild: first dates can be exquisite, or excruciating or, happily, somewhere in the middle. Anxiety is the price we pay in exchange for meeting someone we may make out with in a way that makes onlookers feel simultaneously envious and uncomfortable. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.
There’s obvious pressure — first impressions count. They have the power to make or break an evening
There’s obvious pressure — first impressions count. Impressions that have the power to make or break an evening, to leave a sweet or bitter aftertaste. Even the supposedly small things — in fact, especially those. The good (the zingy feeling when someone edges closer to you), the bad (opening gambit: “I can only stay for one, is that okay?”), the confusing (walks in wearing a backpack).
The location, too, an ostensibly small but monumental supporting character, matters. As one colleague rightly observes: “It’s like the musical score for a film — it should help the emotions, but not be noticed too much.” It’s the venue equivalent of acting as if you haven’t thought about your outfit, the product of furiously WhatsApping your mates a steady stream of mirror selfies.
You’ve thought about it, yes, you just don’t want to look like you’ve thought about it.
The good news is, if one is embarking on a summer of love quest, London is doubtlessly one of the most romantic cities in the world. The backdrop to some of the most iconic of romantic comedies over the years, from Love Actually to Notting Hill, a cool reminder that even second-hand bookshops can prove fertile ground for sexual tension.
Some buzz is necessary. Being able to hear a pin-drop is distinctly not the vibe
Still, you’d never actually suggest a bookshop for a first date (please don’t). Luckily, the city is rife with the safest of bets: the pub. “I love The Faltering Fullback in Finsbury Park,” says Jennifer, a radio producer and DJ based in Highgate. “It’s good because there’s lots of nooks and crannies you can hide in. Also, you know how awkward it is on a date where you’re like ‘do we get food or not?’ There’s a brilliant Thai restaurant within the pub. And a pool table. Then, when it gets really raucous later on, there’s usually a band playing. So there’s constant entertainment.”
Some buzz is necessary. Being able to hear a pin-drop is distinctly not the vibe here. “The Coach & Horses in Soho is lively and busy enough to mean any lulls in conversation are silenced,” agrees David Ellis, ES’s food and drinks editor. I like old school, relaxed places, where they leave you alone and no one is trying to turn tables. Le Beaujolais for a drink or Andrew Edmunds. Lately I’ve had some great drinks with live music at [basement bar] Below Stone Nest on Shaftesbury Avenue.”
For the sober-curious? Or those who simply love to be in bed by 9.30pm (respect)? A gallery visit is never not lovely in the capital. My best friend’s first date with her now-husband was spent meandering around Olafur Eliasson’s exhibition at Tate Modern before getting wine at Elliot’s round the corner in Borough Market. “A gallery date is cute because it’s low-pressure, and you can use the art to talk about different things,” explains Laura. “My favourite first date was going to an interactive exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, it was a fun way to get to know someone, then we walked for ages along the South Bank.”
Surveying internet friends, this rather hopeful theme doth sprung, the promise of part two. The second venue. When flirtation can be properly and mutually flexed. Here, I’d say you can be pretty liberal with your options: maybe it’s watching the sunset from Waterloo Bridge, or finding an underground bar, or pretending you’re in Paris at Café Boheme for a late bite. The latter, still, is not a part one contender. Too risky, too formal, too long, too much. Same goes for the movie night: hard pass.
Two hours with a stranger, in darkness, in total silence, with a hundred other people in the Prince Charles cinema? This will never be sexy. Likewise, bowling. You see this scene a lot in films, but in practice it’s a nightmare for neurotics with bad muscle strength. An early date with my boyfriend, for instance, I thought it would be “fun” (ugh) to do an activity, as per a friend’s recommendation, to go to Rowans in north London, when actually I was so bad — and not in a cute way — after 20 years out of practice, I rather childishly made him lose.
In other words, don’t feel like you need to try too hard. This person wants to spend time with you, and you them, for now. Embrace that. “If it’s successful, you could be absolutely anywhere and it’ll be romantic, it doesn’t really matter” as costume designer and Brixton resident Sandy Powell says in ES magazine’s My London. “I had my first date in Dunkin’ Donuts in Piccadilly and it went very well.”
