
Ask any founder to name the five relationships that most shaped their company, and something curious happens. They almost never mention anyone they met through a screen.
The co-founder was a former colleague, a university friend, someone they argued with at a hackathon. The first hire was a friend of a friend who came to dinner. The first cheque came from an angel they’d met at somebody’s birthday, who had watched them talk about the idea with their hands before ever seeing a deck. The first customers were people who trusted the founder before they trusted the product, because the founder had been in the room, repeatedly, being the same person each time.
I’ve now asked this question of dozens of founders across Bangkok and Singapore, partly out of professional interest and partly because I’m building a company whose whole premise is that meeting in person still matters. The pattern barely wavers. The relationships that carry existential weight — the ones where someone bets their career, their capital or their reputation on you — form overwhelmingly in the physical world.
This shouldn’t surprise us, and yet the way most founders actually spend their relationship-building time suggests we’ve forgotten it. We polish LinkedIn profiles. We send cold emails with carefully engineered subject lines. We join founder Slack groups and Discord servers and post thoughtfully in them. All of this has some value. None of it is where companies actually come from.
Companies come from trust. And trust, for reasons that turn out to be well studied rather than merely sentimental, is still built in person.
It’s worth being precise about what we mean, because “founder networking” has been degraded into meaning the exchange of business cards at events everyone privately resents attending. I’ve written elsewhere about why most networking events fail, and the short version is that they optimise for volume of contact rather than depth of trust, which is exactly backwards.
A founder’s network isn’t a contact list. It’s a set of standing answers to the hardest questions a company will face.
Who will build this with me? That’s the co-founder question, and it’s the highest-stakes hiring decision of your life. You are choosing someone to be legally, financially and emotionally bound to through years of ambiguity and stress. Nobody sensible makes that choice from a chat history. You make it after watching how someone behaves when a demo breaks, when a plan collapses, when they’re tired. That information only exists in person.
Who will join before it’s rational to? First hires accept below-market salaries and above-market risk on the strength of their belief in you specifically. Belief of that kind is transferred face to face — in the animation with which you describe the problem, in the fact that you bought them lunch and listened for an hour before ever pitching them. It does not compress into a job description.
Who will fund the unfundable stage? Angels write first cheques into companies that are, on paper, indistinguishable from the ones that fail. The paper isn’t what they’re underwriting. They’re underwriting the founder, and every experienced angel will tell you their real diligence happens across a table: how you handle a hard question, whether your ambition survives contact with scepticism, whether you’re someone they’d enjoy being in the trenches beside for seven years.
Who will buy before there’s proof? Early customers are doing you a favour dressed up as a transaction. They tolerate the bugs and the gaps because a person they trust asked them to.
Four questions. Four relationships. All of them, in practice, formed and cemented in rooms rather than inboxes.
There’s a piece of research every founder should actually read rather than merely cite, because it’s usually cited wrongly. In 1973, the sociologist Mark Granovetter published “The Strength of Weak Ties”, one of the most influential papers in modern social science. Studying how professionals found jobs, he discovered that the decisive introductions came disproportionately not from close friends but from acquaintances — the people seen occasionally, at the edge of one’s social world.
The mechanism is what matters. Your close ties mostly know the same people and the same information you do; your circles overlap almost completely. Weak ties live in other circles. They are bridges into networks you cannot see, and so they are where genuinely new information — the unadvertised opportunity, the investor who happens to be looking, the engineer who’s quietly ready to leave — actually flows from.
For founders this is close to a law of physics. The co-founder you need is probably not in your existing close circle; if they were, you’d have found them. They’re two introductions away, reachable only through the acquaintance layer. The same goes for your first angel and your best early customers. A founder’s job, in network terms, is to build an unusually rich layer of weak ties and keep it warm.
But here’s the part that gets lost when the research is flattened into a LinkedIn truism. Granovetter’s weak ties weren’t strangers, and they certainly weren’t unopened connection requests. They were real acquaintances — people who had met, who could picture each other, who shared enough context that a recommendation carried personal weight. A weak tie is only a bridge if trust can cross it. Five hundred contacts who wouldn’t recognise you in a lift are not weak ties. They’re a mailing list.
Which is why the digital version of networking so consistently under-delivers for founders. It manufactures the appearance of a wide network whilst producing almost none of the trust that makes a network transmit anything valuable. The acquaintance who met you at a long-table dinner and spent two hours beside you will forward your deck with a sentence of genuine endorsement. The LinkedIn connection will, at best, click accept.
Zoom out from the individual founder and there’s a second body of work that explains why all this has become harder. Robert Putnam, the Harvard political scientist, spent decades documenting the decline of what he called social capital — the networks, norms and reciprocal trust that let communities and economies function. His argument, made most famously in Bowling Alone, was that the associations where trust used to be manufactured — clubs, congregations, civic groups, leagues — have been hollowing out for two generations, and that this isn’t merely a social loss but an economic one. Places rich in social capital solve problems cheaply; introductions happen, favours circulate, reputations do the work of contracts.
Startup ecosystems are social capital made visible. What people romanticise about Silicon Valley was never really the weather or even the capital; it was density — the fact that the acquaintance layer was so thick that ideas, talent and money moved between companies at conversational speed. Every serious startup city since has been an attempt to rebuild that density on purpose.
Southeast Asia’s founders sit inside an interesting version of this story. Bangkok and Singapore are full of exactly the people a founder needs — operators, engineers, angels, early adopters, other founders — many of them recently arrived, ambitious and genuinely open to meeting. The raw material for social capital is here in abundance. What’s missing, in Putnam’s terms, is the associational machinery: the recurring, trusted rooms where the same people encounter each other often enough for acquaintance to compound into trust. Expat and founder life in these cities can be strangely atomised; I hear the same thing from founders that I hear from members making friends in Bangkok as expats — thousands of interesting people within two kilometres, and no bridge to any of them.
Social capital doesn’t rebuild itself. It has to be constructed, deliberately, the way infrastructure is. Which brings us to the practical question.
I want to offer something more useful than “attend more events”, because attending more events is precisely how founders burn six months and accumulate nothing. What follows is the architecture I’d give any founder building a network from scratch in this region. It has four load-bearing walls.
First: choose recurring rooms over one-off events. Trust is built through repeated exposure — psychologists call the underlying pattern the mere-exposure effect, and it’s one of the most reliable findings about how liking forms. A monthly founder dinner where the same fifteen people return is worth more than fifteen different conferences, because the third and fourth encounters are where acquaintance becomes relationship. In Singapore, that means picking two or three standing formats — the established chambers of commerce, the global communities like Startup Grind or Creative Mornings, a university alumni circle — and going every time, rather than sampling everything once. I’ve mapped the ecosystem in more detail in our guide to the best networking events in Singapore; the meta-advice is that consistency beats coverage, always.
Second: prefer activity to mingling. The standing-with-a-drink format is the worst trust-building technology ever widely adopted: everyone performing, no shared context, conversations resetting every seven minutes. Shared activity is categorically better. A hike up to a viewpoint, a cooking class, a padel match, a long-table dinner with a real conversation structure — these give people something to do together, and doing things together is how humans have always assessed each other. You learn more about a potential co-founder in one badly-navigated hiking trail than in ten coffee chats. This conviction is why we made curated experiences the centre of SPARK rather than a feature bolted onto messaging: the activity isn’t the excuse for the meeting, it’s the mechanism of the trust.
Third: build across layers, not just sideways. Founders default to meeting other founders, which is comforting and only partially useful — other founders are your close-tie layer, rich in empathy and poor in novelty. Granovetter’s insight cashes out here: deliberately spend time in rooms that bridge into other worlds. Corporate operators who might become customers. Senior engineers a decade into their careers. Angels who don’t advertise themselves as angels. Creatives, doctors, lawyers, people entirely outside tech whose networks don’t overlap with yours at all. In both Bangkok and Singapore, the most valuable rooms are the mixed ones, and they’re also, not coincidentally, the most enjoyable.
Fourth: give first, and keep ledgers loose. Networks transmit value in proportion to the generosity flowing through them — Putnam calls the underlying norm generalised reciprocity, the expectation that favours circulate rather than being repaid bilaterally. Practically: make two introductions for every one you ask for. Share the investor notes. Recommend the person who’d be perfect for someone else’s team even though you’d love to hire them yourself. In a city, reputations for generosity travel faster than any pitch, and after a year of this you’ll find doors opening that you never knocked on.
None of this is fast, and that’s rather the point. A real network is the single most defensible asset a founder builds, precisely because it can’t be sprinted.
I should be honest that this essay is also autobiography. SPARK — a platform for meeting verified people in real life, across friendship, romance, professional life and community — was itself built through exactly the mechanisms it now provides. Early team members and advisers came through dinners and introductions, our earliest believers were people who had watched me talk about the loneliness problem in person long before the product could speak for itself, and the partnerships behind our experiences across 3,000+ partner venues in Bangkok and Singapore were built relationship by relationship, table by table. Nobody signs a partnership with an email address.
The deepest lesson has been watching what our members do with the same infrastructure. People join SPARK for one kind of connection and routinely find another: a member comes for friendship and meets a business partner across a supper table; two people at a hiking experience discover they’ve been circling the same startup idea from different industries. We stopped being surprised by this long ago, and I wrote about the underlying reason in the story of why we built SPARK — life doesn’t sort people into categories before you meet them. A founder’s network and a founder’s life are not separate projects. The dinner that produces a friend this month produces an investor introduction next year, not because anyone was scheming, but because that is simply how trust behaves once it exists.
That’s also why we insist on verification and curation rather than open-door volume. A membership where every person is identity-verified and every room is deliberately composed is what allows strangers to skip the wary first hour and get to the real conversation — which, for founders, is where everything of value begins.
Strip away the tactics and the research, and the argument comes down to this.
Almost everything else about starting a company has been commoditised. Code is cheaper to write than ever and getting cheaper by the month. Capital is globally mobile. Information is free. Distribution channels are open to anyone. What remains scarce — stubbornly, beautifully scarce — is trust between specific human beings. The co-founder who won’t quit on you, the angel who backs you again after the first idea dies, the customer who champions you internally, the operator who takes your reference call at 11pm.
That web of trust cannot be scraped, prompted, automated or bought. It can only be built, in person, over shared time — and the founders who understand this early compound an advantage that no one can copy, because it is made of relationships with them specifically.
So my advice, as a founder to founders, is unfashionable and simple. Close the laptop earlier than feels responsible. Pick your recurring rooms and keep showing up to them. Choose the dinner over the DM, the hike over the webinar, the introduction made generously over the contact hoarded. Your company will be built by people, and the people who build it are almost certainly ones you haven’t met yet — who are, right now, somewhere in your city, wondering how to meet someone like you.
Looking to meet interesting people in real life? Download SPARK or join our verified community.
Isn’t online networking more efficient for founders than meeting in person? It’s more efficient at creating contacts, and contacts aren’t the asset. The relationships that decide a company’s fate — co-founders, first hires, first cheques, first customers — run on trust, and trust forms through repeated in-person time. Use online tools to arrange meetings, not to replace them.
What did Granovetter’s weak-tie research actually show? Mark Granovetter’s 1973 work found that valuable new opportunities flow disproportionately through acquaintances rather than close friends, because acquaintances bridge into networks you can’t otherwise reach. Crucially, his weak ties were real acquaintances who had met and could vouch for one another — not dormant digital connections. The lesson is to build a wide, warm acquaintance layer in person.
How does SPARK help founders build a real-world network? Every SPARK member is identity-verified, and connection happens through curated real-world experiences — dinners, hikes, classes and salons across Bangkok and Singapore — rather than open-ended messaging. Founders meet operators, investors, creatives and other founders through shared activity, which builds trust far faster than a business-card exchange. You can apply to join or explore membership.
I built SPARK because I believe the most important things in life — and, it turns out, in company-building — happen when people meet in person. Every meaningful chapter of this company began at a table: a conversation that became a hire, a dinner that became a partnership, an introduction made by someone who had no reason to help except that we’d broken bread together. I’ve come to think of a founder’s network not as a professional asset but as the company’s first product — the thing you build before you can build anything else. If you’re a founder in Bangkok or Singapore trying to build yours, come and do it the old way, with us. In a room, ideally over dinner.
— Sunny Khurana, Founder & CEO, SPARK
SPARK is a verified members’ community for dating, friendship and professional connection — built around curated real-world experiences in Bangkok, Singapore and, from September, New Zealand.
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