It’s 8 p.m. in a dimly lit studio in Los Angeles. Two strangers sit across from each other, not texting, not scrolling, not sizing each other up by profile pics—but staring. Silence. Three minutes. No words. No smiles. Just breath. This isn’t a meditation retreat. It’s The Feels, a radical experiment in human connection that’s turning the dating app world upside down. Founded by Allie Hoffman, 38, a Columbia University graduate with a Master’s in Spiritual Psychology, the event launched in New York City in August 2022 and arrived in Los Angeles in January 2024. By June 9, 2025, it had hosted 13 events in the city alone, drawing thousands of attendees tired of the soul-sucking grind of online dating.

Why Silence Is the New Small Talk

"It’s less important what you look like or do for work and more: ‘Do you know you, and how you operate?’" — Allie Hoffman, Allie Hoffman

Hoffman didn’t set out to start a dating company. She was in her late 30s, finishing her degree at Columbia, feeling "very left behind" by society’s ticking clock on relationships. While studying somatic psychology—the idea that trauma, desire, and connection live in the body—she noticed something broken in modern courtship. Apps like Tinder, Hinge, and Bumble reduced people to swipeable images. In Los Angeles, she saw it worse: ageism, aesthetic obsession, and a culture where your worth felt tied to your jawline or your job title. So she built something counterintuitive. At The Feels, you pay $100 to sit in silence. Then, you’re paired for one-minute prompts: "What’s something you’ve been afraid to say out loud?" Then, one minute of compliments—no flattery, just truth. Then, somatic exercises: leaning into each other’s chest, feeling breath, noticing tension. No flirting. No pickup lines. Just presence. "You’re not here to impress," Hoffman told the Los Angeles Times on June 9, 2025. "You’re here to feel. And if you can’t feel yourself, you can’t feel someone else."

A Safe Space in a Digital Wild West

For Tara Haug, 43, a tech sales professional from Los Angeles, the difference was immediate. After years of ghosting, catfishing, and creepy DMs on dating apps, she walked into her first The Feels event in early 2025 expecting skepticism. "I felt really safe with the men instantaneously," she said. "On apps, you can feel very unsafe. Here, everyone chose to be here. There’s a social contract. We’re all trying to do something harder than swiping." Haug didn’t just feel safe—she connected. "I connected with everyone," she said. "Not romantically. But deeply. Like, I saw people. And they saw me." That’s the magic. The structure forces vulnerability. The silent stare isn’t awkward—it’s a filter. If you can’t sit with someone for three minutes without fidgeting or looking away, maybe you’re not ready for real intimacy. The event’s alumni network—now in the thousands across six U.S. cities—uses private WhatsApp groups to keep the connection alive. No photos. No DMs unless both parties opt in. Respect is baked in.

Who’s Really Attending?

The Feels doesn’t cater to one type. It runs separate events for queer, heterosexual monogamous, and ethically non-monogamous communities. Attendees range from 25 to 55. Some are divorced. Some are celibate for years. One anonymous attendee, writing for The Sober Curator, said they’d avoided dating their entire adult life—until this. "This was my first real attempt," they wrote. "It was a great way to jump right in." The event’s structure is precise: three-minute stare, one-minute prompt, one-minute compliment, somatic exercise, one-minute debrief. Then repeat. Men choose partners first, then women, then mutual selection. Repeat. By the third round, the room feels different. Less like a mixer. More like a circle of people who’ve collectively dropped their armor. One "Feeler"—a term for repeat attendees—had been to three prior events. "It’s not about finding a date," they said. "It’s about remembering how to be human with another human."

The Bigger Shift in Dating Culture

The Feels isn’t just a quirky L.A. trend. It’s a response to a national crisis. A 2024 Pew Research study found that 58% of adults under 30 say dating apps have made relationships feel more transactional. Meanwhile, loneliness rates have doubled since 2010. Hoffman’s approach—rooted in somatic awareness, non-violent communication, and values-based matching—mirrors a quiet revolution in mental health and relational therapy. Her work echoes the principles of therapists like Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, who argues trauma lives in the body, not just the mind. "When you feel good + grounded in you—that’s the best place to connect with others," reads The Feels’ official website. It’s not a dating service. It’s a relational reset. And it’s growing. Beyond New York, Washington, D.C., Philadelphia, San Francisco, and Chicago now host regular events. Hoffman’s Substack newsletter reaches thousands weekly. She’s writing a book on modern dating, though no release date is set.

What’s Next?

The next phase? Corporate workshops. Schools. Therapy groups. Hoffman has already piloted a version for therapists-in-training. Could The Feels become a standard in relationship education? Maybe. But for now, it’s a sanctuary. In a world where your worth is measured in likes, it’s radical to say: Just sit. Breathe. Be seen.