I went for dinner with strangers and it restored my faith in humanity, life and myself

Telegraph

7 hours ago

As the lift ascends to the 15th floor, only one thought loops through my mind: 'I don't want to be here.'
I'm attending a dinner with five total strangers. I don't know their names, ages, or any details about them. All I know is that they'll be meeting me at 7pm.
I'm here to experience Timeleft, a viral dinner club designed to help groups of people meet new friends, try new restaurants and break down the barriers that the digital world has erected between us.
'Even 10 years ago we spent way more time socialising: we'd go outside, we went to the bars, we had some rituals in the week too – we went to church or the grocery market or whatever,' asserts Timeleft's founder, Parisian entrepreneur Maxime Barbier, 40.
'The online world has made us much more isolated. I don't think we're becoming less social, I think we're losing our capability to express ourselves, and that's why we created a space where people can talk to each other. That's why I think it's working well in so many different countries.'
Operating in 260 cities in over 60 countries around the world, Timeleft dinners take place every Wednesday evening. Diners pay a membership fee for access (£12.90 for a single dinner, or £19.90 for a month in the UK) then can choose a date, and the algorithm pairs them up with five others. The location of the dinner isn't confirmed until the night before.
Before any of this, I have to complete a personal quiz. The questions are eclectic: 'Are your opinions usually guided by logic and facts or emotions and feelings?', 'Do you consider yourself more of an author's film enthusiast or mainstream blockbuster lover?', 'From 1-10 how much of an introverted person do you consider yourself?'
These answers will, in theory, be used to match me up with a group whose chemistry is perfect for potentially making friends.
'We know six people is the best size for a table, we know that gender balance is really important, we know that it's really important that there's no more than 10 years difference between the youngest and oldest at the table, we know everyone needs to speak the same language, the price of the restaurant plays a big part, we know the balance has to be right between introverts and extroverts,' says Barbier. At the end of the dinner, I can rate my fellow diners to help the algorithm refine what types of people click.
Feeling apprehensive
Given three million diners have used Timeleft since it launched four years ago, the algorithm should, in theory, be pretty good at putting together good groups: so as I ride the lift up to Madera restaurant on the 15th floor of the Treehouse Hotel in central London, why am I feeling so gripped by anxiety?
The truth is, I used to be better at this. A few years ago I could have walked into a room of strangers and felt totally at ease. Recently though, I went through a period of what I can only describe as mild depression. I felt myself growing exhausted by social interactions with new people. The well of gregariousness which I'd always found easy to draw from dried up.
It's a bewildering feeling to look back and notice a change like that in yourself; almost as though some quintessential 'Jackness' in me had been irreparably eroded, replaced by a constant concern about how I was coming across: too loud or too quiet, too verbose or too meek, too opinionated or too reticent. Self-awareness is a vital – and sadly often neglected – skill, but this went further: I could never settle on who I was or what I was bringing to people.
Of course, some people are natural introverts who would simply not throw themselves into a social situation like a dinner with strangers to begin with. Perhaps I could have accepted that's who I am now. But meeting people used to fill me with joy; I always say that one of the best parts of my job is the wealth of people I come into contact with, so I wasn't prepared to go gentle into that quiet life. So: to dinner.
I tell the host I'm here for the Timeleft dinner and she shows me to the bar where I meet Victor and Oli. The pair know each other already – Timeleft allows diners who've enjoyed each other's company to pair up again on future dinners. They are actually celebrating their 'Timeleftiversary': having met at a dinner a year ago, they quickly became fast friends, even holidaying together, and tonight's meeting is a celebration of that.
Oli has been on 41 Timeleft dinners across London, and jokes he's an unofficial ambassador for the company. 'I signed up originally because one day I looked at my friendship group and realised they were all married, or having kids, and I had ended up left out,' he explains. 'There are so many people in London, I wanted to meet some of them and hopefully make new friends.'
Gradually the rest of our party filters in and it becomes apparent that I'm the only newbie. Ruxandra has just moved to London from Bucharest for a job in the film industry and has been to two dinners to make some new friends. Jeni, a cheerful Australian with an easy laugh, also knows Oli and simply enjoys meeting people; this is her ninth dinner. Sarah, who recently returned to London from Hong Kong and wanted to relaunch herself on the social scene, is on her 19th.
A safe space
Despite my dinner companions' backgrounds, according to Barbier, 'around 80 per cent' of Timeleft's users are natives rather than expats seeking to form a new social circle. The 50-50 gender split of my dinner is also somewhat unusual: two thirds of users are women.
'Women get together for the purpose of gathering and men get together for the purpose of doing,' thinks Barbier, who argues that generally women are more social overall. 'We launched women-only nights two months ago and we've had more than 12,000 women participating in that.'
Men-only nights are being considered to address the precipitous rise of male loneliness, but Barbier thinks they will require a bit more of an activity – he's considering football-themed meet-ups as a trial. 'You say to women that you're having a 'women-only event' and they understand immediately that it's about solidarity, making a safe space, all that stuff,' he says. 'When you say 'men-only' guys panic and suddenly think it's a dating thing. Men are socialised to be bad at this.'
Once we make our introductions, conversation turns to food; Jeni volunteers to play mother and picks a selection of sharing platters for us and from there the chatter doesn't stop flowing. We joke about the deafening sound system, especially after a surly manager furiously informs us that no, he won't turn down the speakers 'because in my restaurant we want to keep up the party vibes'. We talk about previous Timeleft dinners, and the rise of in-person meet-up experiences. We chat about holidays, concerts, life in London, the cost of living crisis, the ethics of service charges (Jeni is dead set against them, and after our run-in with the grouchy restaurant manager, we quickly come round to her point of view).
Conversation is brisk and free-flowing. Very occasionally we lapse into silence but Oli's endless conviviality is quick to overcome those moments. I'm happy to say that the three and a half hours we spend together flies by.
Easy connections
It strikes me only once we've split the bill and headed our separate ways that I still don't know a huge amount about my dining companions. I never asked their ages, their occupations, if they had partners or pets. I worry momentarily that might have been rude of me, but then I realise that in the whole time we were together I never felt the need to fall back on stock questions or small talk which might have illuminated such subjects.
Instead I learnt about raves in Romanian castles, laughed about the proper 'vibes' a restaurant should aspire towards, and debated the appropriate costs for a taco. It felt rather like hanging out with friends, more than meeting strangers.
I won't pretend that I wasn't exhausted by the end of the evening. I can't bear awkward silences and I kicked myself slightly for not being good enough at averting them in places. But overall it was a delight and most importantly, enlivening; proof to myself that the old, confident Jack is still inside me somewhere. And alright, I didn't necessarily make any new bosom buddies, but Oli added me to his WhatsApp group for events in London, and I've promised I'll do another Timeleft dinner.
With around 30,000 diners around the world meeting up for dinners this Wednesday night, I'm sure a lot of people have felt the same apprehension I felt earlier. But I'm heartened to think that collectively we all chose meeting, engagement and friendship over the ease of doing nothing, scrolling through social media and letting the solitude of modern life win. In a world that seems endlessly desperate to drive us apart, sometimes it's nice to get a reminder of just how easy it is to connect with the people around us.