There’s something about stepping into the unknown that always makes my heart race a little. Last night, I decided to be courageous and signed up for a speed dating event for the first time. But not just any speed dating event—this one was specifically for Psychonauts. That’s what intrigued me the most: the chance to meet like-minded people in a setting that wasn’t the usual swipe-left, swipe-right scenario. I wanted to connect with people who weren’t just experimenting for fun but were genuinely engaged in discussions about altered states of consciousness and self-exploration.
The Logistics of Putting Myself Out There
This wasn’t a cheap night out. Between the event ticket, hiring a sitter for my daughter, and even grabbing a drink, the cost added up quickly. But I rationalized that the experience and potential connections would be worth it. The unique appeal of speed dating is that it allows for multiple one-on-one interactions in a short span, something that’s rare in traditional social gatherings.
However, as an HSP (Highly Sensitive Person), I already anticipated some challenges. I had an exhausting day leading up to the event—a strenuous workout, intense work tasks, and little downtime. By the time I had to leave, I was physically and mentally drained, feeling that pre-socializing anxiety creeping in. My brain hit a moment of freeze before heading out the door, questioning why I was even doing this. But I took a big breath and got on my bike.
Entering the Venue – And Feeling the Overwhelm
The event was in a hotel lobby. The moment I arrived, I felt a wave of anxiety. The room was already filled with men, casually chatting like old friends, while the few women present were organizers. No one introduced themselves. No one initiated conversation with me. I suddenly felt very alone in a room full of people.
I made my way to the bar. The bartender poured me an enormous glass of white wine, which, in hindsight, was a mistake. I sat alone, texting a friend about how nervous I felt, waiting for more women to show up. Eventually, they trickled in, and I pushed myself to go introduce myself. It was easier with them; we were all showing up alone, and I could sense their own discomfort. That made it feel less intimidating.
The HSP Triggers Kept Adding Up
Then came the first group activity: sitting in a circle on pillows while an instructor led a “ceremony.” It was meant to transition us into a different state of being, but for me, it triggered multiple discomforts. The harsh lighting, the bass-heavy drum pounding into my already aching head, the instructor’s off-key singing—it was all too much. The discomfort only increased when we were asked to do forced icebreaker exercises, like giving compliments to strangers in the room. I struggled to find genuine things to say, particularly to the men, whereas with the women, it felt effortless and natural.
The Actual Speed Dating – A Sensory Overload
Finally, we got to the main event: five-minute rotations of conversations with different men. At first, I was relieved—it meant I could focus on one person at a time. But then, another issue emerged. The noise of multiple conversations happening simultaneously was overstimulating. The seating arrangements made it difficult to hear each other. The icebreaker cards felt forced and impersonal, full of questions I didn’t feel comfortable answering with strangers.
I started asking my own questions—real questions that reflected the reason we were all here. What was their first psychedelic experience? What did they learn from it? What was the weirdest trip they’d had? Finally, I started getting more engaging responses. Yet, despite the occasional interesting conversation, I didn’t feel a spark with anyone. One person seemed promising, but when we later talked at the water cooler, I learned he was leaving the country in a month and a half.
The Energy Drain of the Evening
By the end, my social battery was non-existent. I was running on fumes, feeling mentally drained, physically exhausted, and still feeling this pounding headache. The event wrapped up with a sign-up sheet for the organizer’s future retreats. I was stunned by how compliant everyone was in adding their names. I quietly exited, grabbed my bike, and rode home in silence.
When I finally got home, I had to summon the last bits of my energy to chat with my sitter before collapsing into my routine of herbal tea, comfort food, and a mindless TV show. It took me hours to decompress from the evening. Even now, the morning after, I feel uncharged and low-energy, my body still recovering from the overstimulation of it all.
Was It Worth It?
I keep telling myself I should be proud. I put myself out there. I tried something new. I pushed through my anxiety. And yet, part of me wonders if it was worth the toll it took on me. As an HSP, I process experiences deeply. The sensory overload, the forced interactions, and the disappointing lack of connection left me feeling more drained than fulfilled.
I wanted to come away with excitement, with new possibilities, or at least an interesting connection. Instead, I felt like I’d gone through a social endurance test with no real reward. Perhaps next time, I’ll seek out more intentional ways of meeting people—ones that align better with my energy and sensitivity.
Would I do speed dating again? Maybe. But next time, I’ll go in with better awareness of my limits, and I’ll remember that not every social experiment has to be endured just for the sake of “putting myself out there.”
