When I moved to Austin in 2014, I had a problem.
I'd built a good network over the years in other places, but I was starting over in a new city. I knew maybe three or four people here. And I did what most people do when they want to meet more people: I started going to events.
Meetups. Industry happy hours. “Networking” events with name tags and terrible appetizers. I went to a lot of them. I met people. I handed out cards. I had follow-up coffees.
And after a year of this, I still felt like I didn't really know anybody.
Something wasn't working.
The Moment I Flipped It
Back in 2017, I tried something different. Instead of attending other people's events, I decided to host my own.
Small dinner parties. Jeffersonian-style — eight people around a table, where everyone can actually hear each other and have a real conversation. I was deliberate about the invite list: one or two people I knew well, a few I'd recently met and found interesting, and usually one or two I'd just barely met but had a good feeling about.
No agenda. No pitching. No structured “networking” activity. Just dinner and conversation.
I did this pretty much every other week for two years. That's about 50 dinners.
And what happened over those two years surprised me.
What Actually Happens When You Host
The first thing I noticed: people who came to my dinners started introducing me to others. Not because I asked them to. Just because, when someone asks “how do you know Thanh?” and your answer is “he hosted this incredible dinner,” it creates a story. People share that.
Then the connections between guests started happening. A woman came up to me at one of my events and said, “Thanh, I met my co-founder here at your dinner last year. We're building something that's already helping hundreds of people.”
I had no idea that dinner would lead to that. I just thought I was cooking for some people.
That's the thing about bringing people together… you never know what sparks will fly when two people sit next to each other. Sometimes it's a co-founder match. Sometimes it's an investor for a startup. Sometimes it's just a friendship that becomes something else years later.
But here's what I know for sure: none of those connections would have happened if I'd just been another attendee at someone else's event.
Why Hosting Works Better Than Attending
There's a psychological shift that happens when you host instead of attend.
When you attend, you're there to get something — contacts, opportunities, maybe a job lead. Even if you're not aware of it, that energy comes through. People can feel it. And it makes real connection harder.
When you host, your job is to make sure everyone else has a good time. That completely changes how you show up. You're asking questions because you genuinely want to know who people are so you can connect them with the right people. You're listening more than talking.
And here's the practical piece: as the host, you become the connector by default. You know everyone in the room. Every new person who walks in gets introduced through you. You're the node that everyone passes through.
That's how I got the nickname “the human router.” Not because I was especially brilliant at networking. Because I kept putting myself at the center of a room I created.
You Don't Need to Go Big
I want to be clear about the scale here. These weren't fancy catered events. They were dinners in my apartment. Eight people. Food I cooked or ordered in. A good table and decent wine.
The most important ingredient was curation. I was thoughtful about who I invited and why. I'd think about which two people in the room would really hit it off and make sure they ended up next to each other.
That level of intention — even at small scale — is what made people want to come back. And want to bring their friends.
Over those two years, my network in Austin grew from a handful of people to founders, investors, operators, advisors, and friends I talk to every week. The consulting clients and partnerships that define my business today trace back to connections made at those dinners.
A Different Way to Think About It
There's a broader lesson here that goes beyond networking.
When I travel to Vietnam — where my family is from — I'm always struck by the people who have almost nothing and seem completely at peace. One time I sat in an alleyway with a family friend's family, eating outside, cooking together. They were living on maybe $400-500 a month to support the whole family.
And they were genuinely happy.
Meanwhile there I was, stressing about business, stressing about my network, stressing about all the things that felt urgent.
That contrast stuck with me. The dinners I was hosting in Austin weren't just networking events. They were a way of slowing down, being present, and actually connecting with people. Not “growing my network” in the abstract but just… having real conversations over food.
That's the part that made it work. You can't fake that.
What to Try This Week
If your network feels stale, or you're new to a city, or you just feel like you're meeting people but nothing's sticking… try this.
Host one dinner. Invite six to eight people. Some you know well, some you barely know. Cook something or order in. No agenda.
Just create the space and see what happens.
You don't need a big list of contacts for it to work. You just need to start. The first dinner leads to the second. The second leads to the third. And somewhere around the twentieth or thirtieth, you look up and realize you know everybody.
If you want a system for managing the relationships that come out of this, our weekly review process has a section specifically on relationship maintenance. It's one of the most underrated parts of the whole system.
