The First Phone Call

Today, I'd like to discuss the out-of-town dating phenomenon known as the First Phone Call.

You see, unlike you lovely New York types, we here in the hinterlands cannot dash off to the nearest kosher restaurant or café to meet our dates. Most of the time, our dates live a plane ride away. So, instead of a First Date, we have its poor bastard cousin, the First Phone Call.

I've been trying to figure out what to make of F.P.C.s for the past two years. My best conclusion so far? They are almost universally useless.

Case in point #1: I had a phenomenal first phone call with the Israeli. We were witty and funny, yet we still managed to discuss some serious issues. The result? One glance at me on our first date and he decided I wasn't his 'look'.

Oy. All that wasted time and money.

Case in point #2: I had a very mediocre F.P.C. today with a gentleman from NYC. I had vowed not to date any more of you, but somehow he slipped through the radar. Perhaps it was the good impression he made on M.H. or his cute first phone message. I don't know. Whatever happened, I was prepared to like this guy. Yet, the phone call was mediocre - so mediocre, in fact, that I'm not sure I'd want to talk to him again. There just wasn't any Connection.

What if a mediocre F.P.C. could lead to a fabulous First Date? Is it worth the risk?

I wish there was a Supreme Court-style litmus test for First Phone Calls - you score over 50 and advance to First Date. Under 50? Better luck next time.

Maybe it's me. Am I screwing this up?

Ain't that the question of the century.