Play Parties Through a Neurodivergent Lens: Finding Safety, Pleasure & Presence

Attending sex-positive events and play parties has become a regular part of my life, and over the years, I’ve attended dozens of them across the world. I’ve experienced everything from intimate kink parties in L.A. to expansive sensual retreats in tropical paradise. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from all of it, it’s this:

No two parties are the same.

Some are about connection, others are purely about pleasure. Some are deeply healing, while others are chaotic and overstimulating. And when you’re neurodivergent—whether you’re autistic, ADHD, or both—these environments hit very differently.

I’ve had incredible, life-affirming moments in these spaces. I’ve also had deeply painful ones that left me in tears or emotional shutdown. Navigating this world as a neurodivergent person comes with unique challenges—but also powerful opportunities for growth and connection when it’s done with intention.

Not All Play Parties Are Created Equal

Some are centered around connection, others are about performance, energy exchange, or just existing in your sensual body. Some parties are loud and wild, others are quiet, ritualistic, or energetically soft. And some are a mix of all of that.

Because of this, I’ve stopped going in with expectations. I no longer pressure myself to play. I show up with the hope of connection—whether that’s through conversation, sensual touch, or simply witnessing others in their pleasure.

It’s important to remember: there’s no pressure to participate in anything. Whether you’re watching, cuddling, playing, or just breathing in the room—you still belong.

Different Vibes, Different Worlds: My Experience Across Global Play Spaces

I’ve attended play parties in cities like L.A., London, Cannes, Scotland, and El Salvador, and each space has its own energy.

• In L.A., the scenes I've experienced tend to be visually curated, stylish, and a lot of fun—but sometimes the vibe leans more toward presentation than presence.

• In London/Cannes there’s curiosity and openness, but people can move in familiar clusters that feel tricky to navigate as a newcomer.

• Scotland offered warm, intimate energy with a “family-like” vibe— admittedly due to the fact a lot of us were of the London crowd.

• And in El Salvador, at the Beyond retreat in Mizata, I found the most inclusive, diverse, emotionally accessible space I’ve ever experienced. There was connection, sensuality, slowness, and softness—all in a setting that welcomed nuance.

I’ve stopped comparing parties as “better” or “worse.” Now I just ask: How did I feel there? Was I able to be myself? Did I feel safe in my body? That’s what makes or breaks the experience for me.

What It Feels Like as a Neurodivergent Person

Being neurodivergent in play spaces means I process everything deeply—emotionally, sensorially, and energetically. That can be beautiful, but it’s also exhausting. Here’s how it often shows up for me:

• Sensory Overload: Multiple conversations, music, bodies moving, lights flickering—it can overwhelm me quickly.

• Rejection Sensitivity: I notice everything. A moment of being passed over, someone avoiding eye contact—it can feel huge, even if it’s not intentional.

• Emotional Shifts: Some nights I walk in feeling radiant, magnetic. Other nights, I feel invisible before I even speak.

• Connection Over Casualness: I don’t do casual well. I crave emotional presence and energetic reciprocity. If those aren’t there, I’d rather not play at all.

One night I joined a group game where five women were lined up and men rotated between us. When it was my turn, I felt everyone hesitate. The man paired with me didn’t kiss me, didn’t look at me. I felt dehumanized. That moment lingered in my body for months.

The Confusing Duality of Being Seen & Feeling Invisible

This is something I don’t hear people talk about enough:

Some nights, I walk into a play party feeling magnetic—like I’m a whole experience. Other nights, I feel like I disappear into the wallpaper.

There are times I show up convinced I’ll be overlooked… and then leave feeling surprised by the people who chose me, witnessed me, craved me. Then there are nights I come in with fire and confidence, and nothing lands.

It’s confusing. It can feel unstable. And yet… the one consistent thread through all of it is this:

I love connecting with people.

Whether I play or not, I want meaningful connection—through eye contact, conversation, breath, or shared presence.

And I want to be honest—sometimes I do go in hoping to be seen. Hoping to play with multiple people. Hoping to be admired, touched, desired. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. Performance, visibility, being witnessed—those things can be sacred too.

It’s not shallow. It’s just part of how I express my sensuality.

I’ve learned to make space for all of it—the insecurity, the confidence, the desire to play, the desire to rest. None of it makes me less real.

Give Yourself Grace

One thing I’ve noticed is that I can get so in my head that when someone invites me to join something unexpected, my instinct is to say no—not because I don’t want to, but because I haven’t had time to mentally process it.

And yet, more often than not, when I say yes anyway—I’m so glad I did.

I don’t think that’s fawning. It’s just part of how I move through uncertainty. I need a moment to adjust, recalibrate, and trust that my body knows what it’s doing.

I’m learning that presence doesn’t always mean confidence—it just means awareness, honesty, and grace.

Substances, Consent & Knowing My Limits

Enhancers are common at play parties—weed, MDMA, alcohol—and I’ve used them. Sometimes to soften. Sometimes to amplify. Sometimes to feel less awkward.

But as a neurodivergent person, I’ve learned that substances affect me differently. My threshold is lower. My body takes longer to process. I’ve definitely overdone it before trying to match the vibe.

I’m absolutely not anti-drug. I think enhancers, when used mindfully, can deepen connection. But they can also blur boundaries, especially when you’re already navigating a sensitive nervous system.

My advice?

• Know your limits.

• Don’t take more just because you’re overwhelmed.

• Make sure you’re grounded enough to give clear, coherent consent.

• Bring someone you trust, and build in time to land after.

Do what feels good—but know what the risks are.

Tips for Neurodivergent Folks in Play Spaces

1. Arrive early or scope the space beforehand.

Familiarity eases anxiety and helps you find your rhythm.

2. Bring sensory tools.

Earplugs, soft textures, a calming scent—whatever supports your nervous system.

3. Set your Yes/No/Maybe boundaries in advance.

This helps you avoid decision paralysis in the moment.

4. Create an exit or recharge plan.

You don’t have to stay the whole night. Take breaks. Tap out when needed.

5. Build in aftercare.

Post-party rituals like journaling, baths, cuddles, or silence help you come back to center.

For the Neurotypical Folks

If you’re not neurodivergent, you can still support inclusion by:

• Being mindful of sensory overload and pacing

• Giving people time to respond

• Not taking quietness or hesitation personally

• Respecting boundaries without needing justification

• Practicing consent that leaves room for pause

Neurodivergent people often bring deep emotional intelligence, presence, and magic into these spaces—but we need environments that support how we process and feel.

Final Thoughts: Sensuality with Self-Awareness

I’ve had awkward nights, painful rejections, and moments of invisibility—but I’ve also had wildly beautiful, healing, intimate experiences that left me feeling full.

Like the time I had one of the best threesomes of my life—filled with laughter, teasing, and trust. Nothing was forced. It flowed naturally. I felt seen, held, and completely in my body. That night, I didn’t just feel desired—I felt deeply valued.

Those moments are why I keep showing up. Not for the performance, but for the possibility. Not for the perfection, but for the realness.

Whether you’re ND or not, deep feeler or thrill-seeker, soft explorer or bold player—you belong here, too.

Your pleasure, your pace, your boundaries, your presence… they are sacred.

And you never have to trade your self-awareness for the sake of fitting in.