I once found myself on a date in the most bizarre location imaginable: inside a sensory deprivation tank. Yes, you read that right—a pod full of water and Epsom salts, meant to transport you into a meditative, floaty abyss. I should probably explain how I got there, lest you think I’m out here trying to redefine the concept of “dinner and a movie.”

The Invitation: A Date Beyond Gravity

It all started when I met Nate (not his real name, because some stories aren’t ours to fully share). He had the kind of aura that suggested he owned at least one pair of linen pants and probably said things like, “I don’t believe in Western medicine” at parties. He asked me out after a mutual friend’s Shabbat dinner, where he’d regaled the table with tales of hiking the Andes with one backpack and “a clear mind” (his words, not mine). I figured, why not? Worst case, I’d have a story.

When Nate texted a few days later with date plans, he casually dropped, “How do you feel about floating?” Floating? Like on a paddleboard? In a metaphorical, relationship-y way? Turns out, he’d booked us both sessions in sensory deprivation tanks. I didn’t know if this was a groundbreaking spiritual gesture or the sign of a man catastrophically misunderstanding what a first date should involve. Naturally, I said yes.

Stepping Into the Void: How to Tank Your Comfort Zone

The facility itself smelled faintly of lavender, a scent that practically screamed, “Welcome to your reawakening.” The receptionist, who looked like she split her time between Burning Man and yoga retreats, handed me paperwork as if I were signing my psychic life away. Nate, of course, was totally nonchalant. He leaned against the lobby counter and said, “This is going to be amazing for our energy alignment.” OUR energy alignment? I didn’t recall offering my chakra system for calibration, but okay.

A guide led us to separate rooms and explained the process. Strip down, shower, slide into the tank, and let the world melt away. “You’ll feel suspended, almost womb-like,” the guide added, a description that felt oddly personal for someone I’d just met. I gave Nate a wide-eyed, “Oh, what have I done?” look before stepping into my pod.

Now, let me paint a picture: Imagine floating in pitch-black silence, unable to tell where your body ends and the water begins. It’s like starring in your own private sci-fi movie—with zero direction. At first, all I could think about was my to-do list: groceries, a pitch due for an editor, whether my hair would come out smelling like salt. Then came the overthinking: Why had Nate picked this? Was this some kind of test? Would he think less of me if I accidentally fell asleep and drooled into the water?

By the twenty-minute mark (I think… time becomes meaningless in those tanks), an uneasy calm settled over me. The weight of the world literally disappeared. And in floating there, feeling both ridiculous and kind of profound, I imagined myself as the B-plot to a Nora Ephron romantic comedy. Somewhere, Meg Ryan was probably having coffee at a New York deli while I was floating like a very confused sea otter in Los Angeles.

Dating Lessons From the Brine

Here’s where things get surprising: the post-tank chat with Nate was one of the most insightful conversations I’ve ever had on a first date. Compared to small talk over overpriced wine, swapping thoughts on vulnerability, existential quiet, and the weird intimacy of shared isolation was… refreshing. It was less, “Where are you from?” and more, “What’s it like to face yourself in silence?” Who needs a dating app compatibility quiz when you can unpack that level of introspection in the lobby of a flotation spa?

Here are a few truths that came out of this gravity-free experiment:

  • Connection Starts With Discomfort: A sensory deprivation tank might not be a go-to for romance, but it forces you out of your usual date rut. Shared novelty builds bonds, even if those bonds involve laughing about how unironically weird you both are.
  • Quiet Can Be Telling: Dates often revolve around stimuli—music, food, crowds. But a situation where silence is the only option is, surprisingly, where you can have the most fun getting real afterward.
  • Shared Vulnerability Is Key: Few things are more intimate than admitting you were 80% sure you might hallucinate your high school geometry teacher in the void. Nate confessed that he once cried in a tank (we’re not all meant to be stoic floaters, folks)—and just like that, the “put-together wilderness guy” energy softened into something more authentic.

Was It Love or Just the Salts?

Spoiler: Nate wasn’t my soulmate. We went on a handful of dates after the infamous tank night, but eventually, our lives floated in different directions (sorry, I couldn’t resist the pun). That said, I walked away with two valuable lessons: (1) Always say yes to experiences that freak you out a little—they guarantee stories; and (2) The person who chooses a surprising first date is likely to be someone worth knowing, even if things don’t last.

How to (Sensibly!) Go Wild on a Date

If sensory deprivation isn’t quite your thing, there are plenty of other ways to channel your inner adventurer while still keeping it first-date appropriate. Consider these ideas for adding a little edge while staying grounded:

  • Immersive Art Exhibits: Contrary to popular belief, not all first dates need to involve staring into each other’s souls. Wander through an exhibit where the art does the talking for you. Bonus points if it’s Instagram-worthy.
  • International Grocery Store Crawl: Tour a market, pick out snacks you can’t pronounce, and laugh when one of them turns out to be bizarrely spicy. It’s affordable, low-pressure, and delicious.
  • DIY Stargazing: Bring a picnic blanket, lie back, and see if you actually know any constellations. (Hint: Nobody does, so make them up together.)

Closing Thoughts: Date Boldly, Reflect Deeply

Here’s the thing: dating, like sensory deprivation, is inherently unnerving. You’re putting yourself out there, floating in unfamiliar territory while trying to connect with another human being. But that’s also what makes it exhilarating—you don’t grow in the safe, predictable spaces. Sometimes the best connections happen when you’re literally or figuratively weightless.

So, would I recommend dating in a sensory deprivation tank? Not unless you’re ready for a lot of introspection and some serious vulnerability. But would I recommend dating in a way that challenges your usual expectations? Absolutely. Life and love are weird—and maybe that’s the point.