My newsletter muses about mental health and life, shares fiction too out there for primetime, and contemplations about whatever the fuck I want. Read more on my About page or, you know…
New things.
I’m always down to try something new so long as it captures my curiosity. So, when I received a text from an unknown phone number inviting me to become a member of something called 222, I unquestionably, indubiously, irrevocably…
… Rushed to block the number.
But, when I noticed the name of a friend had referred me to this mysterious and exclusive membership, I, of course, understandably, unquestionably, indubiously concluded that my friend…
… Had gotten deep in with the spam sharks. I was 222’s next target.
Suffice it to say, curiosity got the best of me and I ended up clicking on the link in the text that guided me to 222’s website. It didn’t state much. Heck, all it states is the following on its About page:
This is not a dating app.
This is not a friend-making service.
This is not networking.
This is not mindless scrolling.
This is not random.
This is not the metaverse.
This is not a distraction.
No profiles, no DMs, no scrolling, no swiping.
Just say "yes" & explore the chance encounters you'd have never experienced.
Choose chance.
“Cute,” I thought to myself, still curious but cautious as I proceeded to fill out the membership application. “Real—”
I paused when I reached the part of the application that discarded my curiosity and captured my full attention: a personality quiz.
“Just when I thought I was out,” I thought to myself as I remembered all the astrology, tarot, and 16 personality types quizzes that had deprived me of my best years and moments in life (weddings of friends, the birth of my daughter, the funeral of my home skillet) “they pull me back in.”
I finished 222’s quiz and giddied with joy at my personality type: the Bohemian, the rarest (at least I think it is. It has to be. It has to) in 222’s spectrum who have the following characteristics:
An artist at heart.
Wanderer.
Free-spirit.
Imaginative.
Vagabond.
Self-confident.
“That’s me,” I thought to myself, recalling my various personality types which all concluded similar characteristics. “That is so me.”
It was only after taking the personality quiz that I allowed myself to think of the possibilities that 222 could offer. “I could meet a potential romantic partner.” I smiled, envisioning a montage of future memories with this made-up soul mate.
“Could,” my reasonable and cautious side reminded me. “We could find a partner. Or a friend. Or nothing. Let’s just remain open, discard judgment, and see what happens.”
What happened
I got judgmental. Not at the event but prior to it. 222 works by sending you an invitation about a dining experience that will be hosted at a certain location. (I believe Los Angeles and New York are the only cities hosting this experience at the moment.) The dining experience is then followed by what you can call an “after party.” The dining portion is small and intimate, and the “after party” is large and clustered.
Upon receiving this message, your job is to confirm or deny the experience. You can also opt to skip the dining experience and attend the second experience only.
This sounded reasonable enough to me upon my invitation to Bacari Silverlake, an upmarket open-air lounge surrounded by trees, offering small plates, pizza & a large drinks list. (The location isn’t disclosed until much later)
But, when I was asked to pay a curation fee of $17 to reserve my spot, that cautious side sprung back to life. “Spam,” I whispered to myself. “This has to be spam.”
I rushed to 222’s Instagram page, quickly noticing other friends of mine were following it. Then, confirming if they had given it a shot. Once confirmed, I booked the experience.
The storm before the calm
On the day of the 222 event, I wasn’t happy. I was anxious and angry. Angry over the fact that 222 didn’t send me the location of the dining experience until the day of the event. I hate waiting on others. I hate being left in the dark.
And I was anxious over… well, I’m always anxious whenever I try out something new, especially when it comes to mingling. And this particular 222 experience had my anxiety soaring crazier than ever. I mean, for fuck sake, I knew nothing about it. For all I know, I could be walking into some fucking scam. Or worse, be capped in the back of the head like dear ole’ Tommy DeVito.
“This is a mistake,” I kept telling myself as I parked my car on a hill and made my way to the restaurant’s patio. I checked with the host, told him I was here for the 222 event, and asked if my table was available. He said it wasn’t and that he’ll call my table number when it was.
And so I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I watched people come and go, wondering which of them is here for the 222 event. I couldn’t tell. And I stopped guessing after fifteen minutes passed. “No one’s here,” I assumed as my blood started to boil. “No one dared to show up. Everyone bailed or flaked. What a bunch of fucking—”
I stopped making assumptions. I took a deep breath, chilled, and decided it best to check with the host again. “Your table was already called.”
“Oh.”
The calm
The second my hostess escorted me into the interior decor of Bacari Silverlake, which looked like an upscale, mature, and poised version of Rainforest Cafe with dim and dark lighting, I became happy and calm. “If all else fails,” I thought to myself, “if I don’t vibe with anyone or if tonight is just the fucking worst, at least I’ll keep this place in mind to visit on my own.”
“Here you are,” my hostess gestured me to a table in a corner seated with three souls.
Thank God, I thought as I took my seat, relieved there were only three others at the table since I was expecting seven or eight.
And so the dining experience commenced, beginning strongly and ending quietly.
My verdict
Did I make a strong connection with anyone at my first 222 event? No.
Do I regret going? Not at all.
Will I return for another 222 experience? Indubitably.
Why? Because I love trying out new things. Because I love making good connections. Scratch that, deep and strong and ever-lasting connections. Is that too much to ask? Yes, yes it is. And because I’m aware of this, whenever I strive to make a new friendship, 222 event or not, I attempt to discover at least one thing I can learn from them or one thing we can bond over like writing, MMA, music, TV shows, ambition, curiosity, traveling, similar upbringing, and so and so forth.
Nevertheless, though I may not have formed a strong connection with anyone at my first 222 event, I am curious to give it another go. 222 gives out surveys after every experience asking you to rate your fellow peers. Does that sound mean? Yeah, it sounds like it, but, the purpose of this survey (and the entire 222 experience really) is to find your tribe. To form strong connections.
By reminding myself of its purpose, I asked myself the following questions and answered honestly:
Would I like to see this person again?
Does it feel like there’s more to this person than meets the eye? (Get to know them better)
Do they share one or two or three of my most valued principles? (Ambition, curiosity, open-minded, empathy, confidence, passion)
Final words
New things.
I try to embrace them as often as possible so long as it captures my curiosity. 222 captured my curiosity and held my attention, so much so that I’m hungry to try this experience again and again and again. My fellow 222 peers let me know that it’s supposed to get better after the fifth time since the AI algorithm (and surveys, if you answer HONESTLY!) connect you with people you’re better likely to vibe with.
We’ll see about that.
Nevertheless, I’m excited to see how 222 will improve and expand across the globe in due time. It’s a game changer or…
The world’s greatest scam.
I’m hoping for the former.