Inside a dinner with strangers: The latest initiative to help build new adult friendships

Writer Jessica Ball signed up to an app, promising to help her make friends. She found herself having dinner with five strangers – and the night ended in a way she least expected.

I’ve dined solo next to the grill watching a chef cook Kobe beef at a Kobe steakhouse, and I’ve lined up alone for Michelin star soba noodles at an unassuming hole in the wall in Osaka.

There’s been a fish dinner by the Mediterranean in Kas, shared with no one but a stray cat, and I’ve eaten an olive-laden breakfast spread built for more than one in Pamukkale.

But the moment I land back in Adelaide and the seatbelt sign is switched off, my appetite for solo dining without a care heads for the exit sign.

A post pilates brunch? Sure. A cafe lunch armed with a laptop just in case? On occasion. Dinner? Alone? Absolutely not.

Then a pesky Facebook advert pops up – dinner with strangers?

I click, thinking it sounds like something for singles in Melbourne and Sydney but not Adelaide.

It turns out that every Wednesday a group of strangers meet for dinner in the city. It started in June and already around 400 people have met, dined and left as, well, not strangers.

And it’s not a Hinge date.

How do you meet new friends as an adult? Jessica Ball joined an event to find out. Picture: Kelly Barnes

So I download the TimeLeft app and sign up to have dinner with five strangers matched by an algorithm.

Again, it says it’s not a dating app.

The first step is a personality test. It covers the basics including star sign, religion, relationship status and professional industry, and if I’m a budget, medium or big spender.

Then some curveball questions like, Do I consider myself a smart person or a funny person? Porque no los dos?

Fast forward a week, at 7pm the night before dinner, I find out I’ll be meeting two Leos, an Aquarius, a Cancer and a Gemini spanning from Argentina, Australia, Ecuador, India and Sri Lanka.

Not enough information to cancel but enough to be intrigued, I guess.

Jessica admits that dining solo is her go-to when overseas but when back in Adelaide, it’s a no-go. Picture: Kelly Barnes

So she signed up to dinner with strangers in an attempt to make new friends. Picture: Kelly Barnes

It isn’t until 9am the next day that we find out where we’ll be meeting and eating – Adelaide institution La Trattoria.

Even if the company is terrible, the pasta will be worth it. When 5.30pm rolls around I drag a colleague out for an after work drink, better known as liquid courage.

I arrive to dinner with a glass of pinot under my belt and there are two men and a woman already at the table.

Everyone admits they’re nervous but by the time the waiter wants to take our orders they can’t get a word in.

Dating with strangers is the latest initiative being used by Gen Z and young Millennials wanting to make human connection away from smart phones. Picture: Kelly Barnes

Then the games begin – the dreaded ice breaker questions – and we spend much of the dinner going around in circles sharing our answer to generic questions like, What’s your favourite day of the week?

But when we breakaway from the prompts, the conversation flows.

Two have just moved to Adelaide from interstate, one is Adelaide-born and bred, one is a local councillor who slips me his business card.

Others like me have moved here a little while ago for a job but between juggling work and the cliquey Adelaide social scene are still trying to break into city life.

Everyone is keen for another drink.

The restaurant won’t split the bill, so someone has to put up their card for a group of seven people they’ve only just met. So we divide the cost, sort out the bank transfers and I feel a little guilty for the guy who didn’t partake in the wine.

Then we wander down the street until we hit Little Havana.

I wasn’t expecting to end my Wednesday night poorly Latin dancing and drinking cocktails.

And as the evening comes to an end, we all get notifications asking us to rate our new dinner friends and say if we want to see them again.

So far I’ve had no bites but would I dine with strangers again?

You bet I would.