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Sometime in the last few months, I had rekindled the once-forgotten urge to flirt with strangers and dream of a meet-cute. Of course, the romantic fantasies I had been brewing in my head of bumping into an old flame or meeting someone in a book cafe were, simply put, delusional.
Instead, the realities of modern dating were apparent: I had to return to the dating app grind. Naysayers may spout horror stories of these apps, but with a more lighthearted mindset, I perhaps could at least embrace the dopamine rush they brought.
The desire to get back out there also came after brunch with an old friend. She mentioned, out of the blue, that she’d have to step out of the cafe we were in at 2pm—a potential date wanted to have a ‘vibe check call’ with her.
I was confused, to say the least. But after hearing her explanation, my curiosity was piqued. Think of this pre-date phone call as a preliminary interview with the person you’re thinking of meeting. At its core stands a desire to whittle down the suspects and save time (and our collective wallets) in the process. I was eager to try it for myself.
I may have been on and off most online dating applications over the past few years, but for this particular comeback, I decided to streamline my efforts into mostly Coffee Meets Bagel, Hinge and Bumble. The one rule I had to follow? I had to arrange a pre-date phone call, voice preferred over video. So began the hunt.
Many swipes and a handful of decent conversation-starters later, I had my first potential meet-up hanging in the air. Callum*, with his finance-bro swagger, brought enough niceties to pen in a date the very next week. I appreciated the swift initiative, so I threw the ball back in his court. Sure, we could meet, but let’s do that weekend call first.
The conversation turned out to be dry, a reflection of my potential date. It ended after a very painful 15 minutes and I knew I couldn’t go through with an in-person meeting. I called it off and apologised in advance but got a tirade of explosive, angry messages in return. I blocked him.
The next guy, Rayden*, was a real charmer. Conversation flowed so easily, it had me slightly giddy after chatting with him till the early hours of the morning. He hadn’t been back in the country for a couple of years now but would be back for good three weeks later. By the two-week mark, texting him had become a daily occurrence. He knew of the intended phone call appointment, and even beat me to it before our intended date. It felt comfortable, genuine and fun—like I was calling my best friend at the end of a long day. I felt even more excited to meet him after the call.
But then he started work again, and ghosted me for three weeks before finally texting back: “Hey, work’s been really busy.” No apology, no effort to schedule another date. I didn’t reply and we never made it to that meeting.
Third time’s a charm, they say. Maverick* was a playful flirt. He took me on drives and had his way with words. He even listened to my stories of the previous potentials, but then vehemently refused the phone call. I met him anyway.
Of course, he turned out to be the biggest red flag of them all, the sort that had too much emotional baggage to unpack here. But he was fun and real while it lasted, and convinced me of one thing: the vibe check call was a good tell that I could trust my gut feeling.
It’s a preliminary assessment to some extent—how they reacted to even the notion of a call told me a lot about the potential date. While they all understood why I wanted the call, only Rayden had the confidence to treat it like just any other—despite his later lapse in communication. The others questioned it to some extent, or even shunned it entirely.
Maverick did the exact latter, and the reasons as to why came tumbling out a minute into our date: he didn’t like the idea of me girlboss-ing my way through this. He probably hates Bumble.
It was also an interesting set-up for myself. Ahead of both calls that I actually did, I was nervous for one and dreaded the other. I also realised how much I was anticipating the sound of someone’s voice every time I met them on a first date, and this was the perfect solution to satiating that initial curiosity.
But one thing I can say with certainty? It gave me an unexpected boost of confidence. I was in control of who I was meeting and who I was choosing to spend precious time with. Didn’t enjoy the phone call? Call the date off, and deal with the consequences, for better or for worse.
It helped me show them the kind of person I was too, and the sort of priorities I would have in a relationship. It’s empowering yet fun, in its own little way, so there’s no reason not to keep at it. Lest we forget that time is precious, and waste anymore of that on a futile, lukewarm meet-up that we know isn’t going to go anywhere anyway.
*Names have been altered for privacy.
