The Fine Line of Vulnerability: How Much is Too Much?

Vulnerability is a tricky thing.

We’re told to be open, honest, and real — to share our struggles, to let people in. But at the same time, there’s an unspoken rule that if you share too much, you risk being seen as attention-seeking, oversharing, or making people uncomfortable. Where is the line between authenticity and exposure? Between sharing something that helps others and simply putting yourself on display?

I don’t have all the answers, but I do know this: Get Out was born from a place of fear — fear of being lonely, of never finding my place, of giving up on myself completely. For years, I struggled with that reality, too afraid to ask for help, too depressed to see a way forward. It was an isolating, dark time, and I still don’t know exactly how I managed to claw my way out of it. But I did. And that’s why I’m here, trying to build something better — not just for myself, but for others who have felt that same crushing weight of loneliness.

I don’t share this lightly. You won’t see me crying on camera, and I won’t be standing in a pair of speedos telling you to buy into a program that will change your life. That’s not me, and it’s not what I want this space to be. I want Get Out to be real, to be about genuine connection, not the performative kind we see all too often online. But I also know that for this space to be truly welcoming, for it to have an impact, I have to be willing to be honest about why it matters so much to me. And that means talking about some uncomfortable things.

Real Vulnerability vs. McVulnerability

We live in a world where vulnerability has been commodified. Crying TikToks, curated trauma posts, influencers performing sadness with a ring light — it’s all part of the landscape now. This brand of "McVulnerability" gives the illusion of connection, but in reality, it’s just another product to consume. And it’s exhausting.

True vulnerability isn’t about selling sadness; it’s about connection. It’s about saying this was hard, I felt lost, but here’s what I did, and here’s what I learned. It’s about sharing experiences in a way that can genuinely help others, not just create engagement. The difference? Intent.

When I started Get Out, it wasn’t just because I wanted to build a community — it was because I needed one. I needed something that wasn’t a dating app. I needed to feel like I belonged somewhere, that I wasn’t alone in wanting something beyond swiping, partying, or surface-level interactions. And I knew if I felt that way, there had to be others who did too.

Loneliness and Why We Need More Than Just Connection — We Need Meaningful Connection

Loneliness isn’t just about being physically alone. You can feel lonely in a crowd, at a party, in a relationship. Research shows there are two types of loneliness — emotional loneliness (the absence of deep, meaningful relationships) and social loneliness (a lack of social network or interaction). It’s emotional loneliness that tends to do the most damage, increasing the risk of depression, substance abuse, and even mortality. And I think this is where so many of us in the LGBTQIA+ community struggle.

We have spaces to meet people, and gay bars and community venues are doing their best to foster belonging. But how often do these spaces truly encourage real, lasting connections? How often do we engage in the kind of conversations that make us feel seen rather than just noticed? Partying all night can be fun, but it isn't always the best way to build meaningful relationships. And how many of us spend our nights chasing validation on dating apps instead of investing in the friendships and support networks that actually sustain us?

This isn’t about blaming anyone — God knows I’ve been caught in the same cycles. But we need to acknowledge that a system designed to profit from our frustration and loneliness isn’t built with our best interests in mind. Dating apps, in particular, capitalise on keeping us swiping, dangling the illusion of connection while actively fostering dissatisfaction. We pour money into subscriptions, boosts, and premium features, yet more often than not, we walk away feeling emptier than before. That’s why I wanted Get Out to be different.

Building Something Better

Get Out isn’t just about providing another way to meet people — it’s about changing the how. Our Community Calendar makes it easier to find events that bring people together in real life. Our community platform is a hub for information, and connection whenever you need it, and we’re currently developing multiple tools to help connect people with community organisations and sports teams, because nothing pulls you out of your own head like showing up for others.

These tools aren’t just about interaction — they’re about meaningful interaction. About finding people you connect with on a deeper level, whether it’s through a shared interest, a common goal, or a cause you both care about. Because at the end of the day, that’s what truly combats loneliness — not just being around people, but feeling understood by them.

The Takeaway

I still don’t know exactly how much of myself I want to put out there. But what I do know is that real connection starts with honesty. Not the flashy, viral kind. Not the kind that gets you clicks. But the kind that makes someone else go, Oh, you too? I thought it was just me.

That’s the kind of vulnerability I believe in. That’s the kind of space I want Get Out to be. And that’s what I’m here to build — one real, meaningful connection at a time.