Queer dating apps and communities without a focus on sex — do they even exist?
Moin, you sweet little mice of the AdiraVerse!
Wait — what exactly is the AdiraVerse supposed to be?
It is our shared universe around Adi’ra, my alter ego for those moments when Ike Aaren simply doesn’t sound feminine enough.
Let’s be honest: are there actually first names in the Northern Hemisphere, west of Asia, that are genuinely non-binary?
As long as monotheistic religions have existed, there have hardly been any traditional first names that were not classified as either male or female.
Of course, there are invented names, and there are shortened forms such as Alex, which may come from Alexander, Alexia, Alexandra, or something similar.
But if we look back across roughly the past 5,000 years, society has largely organised people into the artificial categories of man and woman.
So unofficially, I use a third first name — or pseudonym — Adira, or Adi’ra.
As you probably know, I’m neurospicy, somewhere in the AuDHD spectrum, and very clearly non-binary.
Search for “non-binary” on Substack and you’ll probably find me fairly easily.
Nonbinär, neurospicy und Einsamkeit.pdf
I’m married and have been living with my favourite person since March 2006 — more than twenty years by now.
Nothing can separate our love, because we have already been through so much shit together and successfully survived more than one catastrophe side by side.
But each of us still has a life of our own.
We’re not Siamese twins.
We each have our own hobbies and special interests. They overlap, but they are not identical, and we don’t need to spend every second together.
We try to preserve and actually live as much personal autonomy as is realistically possible in our world in 2026.
The fact that both of us are neurospicy is probably one reason our relationship has worked so well for so long.
But unfortunately, that also creates a certain kind of loneliness outside our smallest little community.
We both have very few friends.
And none of those friends — including the ones we share — are people we can simply call or text at any random moment and say:
Hey. Want to talk? Want to meet up?
I’m the less settled one of the two of us.
My base is where my wife lives, but my home is wherever she is.
That doesn’t mean I need to stay home all the time.
Quite the opposite.
Depending somewhat on fuel prices, I’m mobile.
If I want to travel somewhere farther away on short notice, I’m a little like a turtle: I carry my mobile home with me.
I don’t need a hotel room or someone’s couch.
I basically just need a parking spot quiet enough that nobody immediately gets annoyed when I unfold my rooftop tent for the night.
And thanks to Starlink, I can work pretty much anywhere as long as I have enough electricity — either a mains connection or enough sunlight for my photovoltaic panels.
Nonbinär, neurospicy und Einsamkeit.pdf
But Where Do You Find Other Queer and Trans People If You’re Not Looking for Sex?
That is the question.
Where — and how — do you actually meet other queer and trans people when what you are not looking for is a sex date?
Which apps are about more than just cis-style dating and hookups?
Whenever I stay at campsites, I mostly encounter families with small children or older people, often well over sixty.
Digital nomads like me are rare.
And ChatGPT and Gemini aren’t exactly that helpful when it comes to finding dating apps and communities that are genuinely better suited to queer people either.
So if you know good places, apps, communities, groups or networks:
I would be extremely grateful for your recommendations.
Seriously.
Tell me in the comments.