When I first tried to make friends in the metaverse, it didn’t go well. I put on my Oculus Quest VR headset and fired up the Horizon Venues app, hoping to go to my first virtual concert — Billie Eilish’s set from the 2021 Governors Ball festival had just been released in VR.

I made an avatar that looked like me, with shoulder-length blonde hair, glasses, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, and materialized in a virtual foyer. But before I had chance to make my way to the door with Billie’s face on it, someone with a male avatar with pale skin, short black hair and a deep voice began shouting my name repeatedly, grabbing at my avatar with one hand and wildly waving their other hand in front of me. I instantly forgot how to both block people and how to move around without feeling dizzy. Once I finally escaped — by scuttling into a corner — I desperately wanted to leave and throw up.

But listen to Mark Zuckerberg’s vision of the metaverse, and you’d believe it’s a utopia. The reality is more concerning, with reported cases of VR harassment, hate speech, and child grooming already circulating. Since my own encounter, I have used my VR headset again, but only for solo experiences — to play a 3D puzzle game, to go on an International Space Station tour, and to experience a nature documentary that took me to the bottom of the ocean from my bedroom.

A year on, the memory of my first social VR encounter still gives me a headache. But I also know some people have formed meaningful friendships in the metaverse, and even transitioned virtual relationships into real-life partnerships. Do I need to feel wary about meeting people in VR spaces? Or do virtual worlds simply mirror the complexities of real world social interactions, where both harassment and genuine connection coexist?