Last December, after consuming a few red wines, my friend Hana and I set ourselves the new year resolution to ask someone out in person each month.

With Hana visiting Melbourne from Canberra a couple of times a year, it was typical for our boozy biannual catch-ups to end in questions about our dating lives. This night was not much different.

But as we filled each other in, nestled in the booth of a Brunswick bar, we both expressed a desire to branch out from the world of swipes and DMs that we’d become accustomed to.

Not that there’s anything wrong with a good ol’ swipe, of course. But Hana and I, both 28, had been discussing certain instances in our lives in which we’d been out somewhere and met someone who we were attracted to, only to part ways with them, not say something, and immediately feel a sense of regret.

“Ah,” we’d ponder, as the potential loves of our lives marched off into the abyss, “What if …”

We also agreed that asking someone out in person would be the ultimate test of courage. How comfortable were we to put ourselves out there and potentially face rejection, delivered to our faces?

There were stipulations for this resolution:........

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