PHILADELPHIA — The notion that Americans are lonely — very, very lonely, and anxious, and depressed, and therefore more at risk of heart disease, dementia, and stroke — has gained traction in recent years. It’s been called an “epidemic” and a “quiet catastrophe,” a particular problem for men and young people and adults and the elderly and pretty much everyone. The surgeon general recently proposed a “National Strategy to Advance Social Connection.”
Millennials and Gen Z are navigating the dating world in this context, and they say the overall experience is not inspiring. In a nationally representative Harris poll, for example, 30 percent of Gen Z singles agreed with the statement, “I would rather walk across hot coals than go on another online date.”
“People come to me and they’re frustrated. They’re tired,” said Michal Naisteter, a matchmaker and self-described “superconnector” who runs Michal Matches in Philly. “The essence of human connection can’t be using my thumbs.”
That’s where the ancient practice of meeting people in person comes in. There seems to be demand: Naisteter co-runs in-person dating events, called “Date Him Philly,” where attendees bring vouched-for members of the opposite sex. Similarly, the New York-based “We Met in Real Life” promises “no swiping no matching just dating.”
It was in this spirit that a group of single Philadelphians signed up to participate in a real-life, highly structured “ongoing experiment” related to dating on a recent December evening. “The Feels,” as it’s called, seeks to fast-track intimacy by drawing on meditation, mindfulness, positive psychology, and nonviolent communication. The experience was designed by Allie Hoffman, 40, an energetic facilitator who got the idea while studying for a master’s in spiritual psychology at Columbia University and navigating life as a single woman.
“In dating, we can get very in our heads. We can take a very cognitive approach: ‘Where does he live? What does he do? How much money does he make?’” Hoffman said. She wanted people to focus instead on their bodies and their present experiences, without intellectualizing the whole thing. There would be no algorithms.
The young singles who showed up were eager for just that. Some had come because they were definitively “off the apps,” or because they were new to the city, or because they saw an Instagram ad and were curious (perhaps an algorithm helped a little). Scholars point to the decline of “third spaces” — social environments that aren’t home or work — as another barrier to naturally meeting people; Hoffman effectively created one for a night.
Each participant paid $74.50 to participate in a series of increasingly intimate paired interactions. At Hoffman’s direction, they complimented people they had just met in tightly-timed 45-second intervals. They answered probing questions like, “What’s something you’ve learned about your sexuality in the last six months?” and “What’s something that you had to unlearn from your parents?” They stared silently into strangers’ eyes for 3 minutes and 46 seconds while Icelandic instrumental music played in the background.
“It’s just real. It’s just nice to not have something that’s mediated by some app,” said Chase, 29, who The Inquirer is referring to by his first name for privacy reasons.
The final activity of the night was a long, wordless hug with a (recent) stranger. A sister event, called “The Kiss,” will take place in New York in January, featuring a kiss as the apex of the night instead of a hug, Hoffman said.
Since hosting the first Feels in August 2022, Hoffman has facilitated nearly 1,500 people in Philly, New York, and D.C. She maintains WhatsApp groups for past attendees in each city and regularly posts intimate musings on her dating life and on relationships more broadly. She just hired three new facilitators. (Posted requirements for the job included “strong magnetism and charisma” as well as “demonstrated willingness to engage in your own inner work.”) The Feels will be back in Philly in January and February.
Despite early emails indicating there may not be enough male attendees, ultimately more men than women showed up at the candlelit Maas Building near Northern Liberties. Hoffman said women often buy tickets early but then “get scared last minute and don’t come,” while men wait to buy tickets but are more committed once they do.
“I’ll be honest, I was kind of dreading it all day. I really didn’t want to come,” said KD, 42, who The Inquirer is identifying by her initials for privacy reasons. She has been off the apps for 10 months and is “really trying hard not to go back on.” She was glad, in the end, that she braved it.
“Everyone here,” she said, “is fantastic.”
