#10 - Can you really make friends at a speed-friending event?

I attended one to find out.

It’s Thursday night, it’s raining and I just finished a busy day of work.

I am exhausted. The only thing I want to do is order my favourite Chinese takeaway reach for the remote, press ‘menu’ and hear the iconic ‘ta-dum’. But no. As I slam my laptop shut, I was reminded of a speed-friending event I had signed up to. I rubbed my eyes thinking ‘whyyyy’ with a hint of frustration. And yes, you read that right—a speed-friending event. As you can imagine, it’s like speed dating but to make friends.

At this point, I just want to highlight how dedicated I am to this newsletter.

I traveled an hour away from home on a rainy evening—an hour. Now, for anyone in London, you know that’s madness. We have a 30-minute travel tolerance. But I did it, for you. For anyone reading this newsletter and wondering what’s it really like at these events (nobody is actually wondering that).

That’s how committed I am.

On my way to the event, my mind was buzzing: What am I doing, and why am I doing this? I reasoned it was my duty, to be out there and report on my findings. But then, new thoughts crept in. I was getting confused: Am I going there to make friends or just to write this piece? Are they even separate goals? Should I reveal my intentions once I get there or is that too awkward? Feeling uncertain, I grabbed a pack of crisps and a CBD water to try and relax. I caught the train, and stared out the window, already dreading the mingling. What am I even going to say to these people?

I arrived at the South London café right on time. I spotted the group immediately. I introduced myself, received a drink token, and then, the ultimate cringe: I was handed a sticker and a pen to write my name. I felt like running away. But instead, I put on a polite smile, scrawled my name, and stuck it on my jumper. Running wasn’t an option. I’d see this through, awkward name tag and all.

As I waited in line for a drink, I knew I should have been making conversation. But I just wasn’t ready. I stared at my phone, glanced away, even made small talk with the bartender; anything to delay the socializing. As I scanned the room, embarrassment crept in again. Everyone seemed so young. On the tables, scattered papers posed icebreaker questions. While waiting for my drink, I read a few: Introduce yourself in 15 seconds. Who’s your unpopular crush?

The list of questions was making me nervous.

I really didn’t thrive in controlled environments. I secretly hoped everyone would just ignore the prompts. Plus, I was stuck in undercover reporter mode, which I was trying really hard to shake off. I was handed my beer, took a sip and turned around facing the room for the first time.

‘Hi, I am Kat’ ‘Hi, I am Alice, nice to meet you’.

Within seconds of meeting Kat - and despite promising myself I wouldn’t tell anyone about my secret project - I revealed my intentions. "Oh, so we’re all just part of your research?” she quipped. Well, yes…but also no. Two other girls joined us. Every time I asked a question, I caught Kat giving me this knowing look. She knew exactly why I was asking. "Have you been to one of these events before?" I asked. "Nope," she replied, "have you?" "No, never," I admitted. It turned out none of us had ever been to a speed-friending event. “I’ve tried speed dating, but never speed friending” someone else chimed.

Then, of course, came the inevitable question.

Where do you live? It’s a crucial one especially in a place like London. It was key because it would dictate who you’d be able to see again after the event. The closest in distance would have the higher chances of meeting up again. No one’s traveling halfway across London just to meet up, unless they are in a situationship.

Somebody tapped a microphone.

“Hi everyone, thanks for coming to our first-ever speed-friending event! We don’t usually do this—we’re actually a book club.” That was news to me; I’d completely missed that detail. Well, at least we had one shared interest. She went on, explaining how it would work: we’d have 15 minutes per group of three or four, then we’d rotate. I was surprised it wasn’t one-on-one, but it made sense, friends hang out in groups. I grabbed a seat at the nearest table, and Kat sat down beside me. I flipped the list of suggested questions face-down. “We’re not actually using these, are we?” “Oh, definitely not,” everyone agreed. Good.

A quick side note.

I just wanted to say that everyone I met at this event was thriving and at different stages of life. Some had just moved to London and were eager to make new connections. Others had lived in the city for years with solid friend groups but simply enjoyed meeting new people. So if you are unsure but curious, its definitely worth going. I had a lot of fun.

One thing became clear pretty quickly: everyone was about ten years younger than me. I’d missed the small print when I signed up. It mentioned it was for people in their "early to late twenties". My twenties were now a few years behind me. Still, I was perfectly happy to pass for 28 (I’m 33).

Every 15 minutes, we’d switch groups, and it actually worked well. Most people ignored the list of questions. After a while, it became clear we were all sticking to the usual basics, hardly enough to get a real sense of anyone. With just 15 minutes to see if we clicked, it felt like we needed to dive into something a little more interesting. So, back to the list: What gives you the ick? I didn’t know anyone here, so I could say whatever I wanted. It was almost like a therapy session. I ended up being way chattier than usual and, I realized, kind of funny, too.

At first, I was convinced I wouldn’t stay until the end, but as we moved between tables and met new people, I found myself genuinely enjoying it. I completely forgot about the reporting duties I’d come for and got totally caught up in the fun. When the event officially wrapped up, Kat found me and asked, “How was it?” I laughed and admitted I’d completely forgotten about the whole reporting bit. “Oh, good,” she said, smiling. I felt I had regained her esteem. I smiled, tossed a scarf over my shoulder, and waved goodbye to everyone.

***The event was organised by ‘It’s HardBack Out Here’.