Dinner With Strangers (and the Ordinary Magic of Soul Care)

I was talking to a friend about my transition to Boston from New York… dating, making new friends, the usual “how do I build a life again?” questions.

She mentioned an app she’d tried called Timeleft that connects strangers for dinner. A simple idea: you pick a date, show up, and share a meal with whoever else said yes. She said it was a great way for her to meet new people and maybe, if the vibe was right, a potential way to meet someone dateable too.

Say less. When she finished her sentence, I signed up.

When the night came…

I was… early. Even with a detour to a small boutique store near my office and almost buying stickers that said, “I’m on my way to be weird at something I signed up for when I was in a better mood,” I somehow arrived 30 minutes early to a bustling Bistro du Midi near Back Bay in Boston.

If you know me well, this is funny af because I’m usually right on time or fashionably late. But, this has been a new thing for me and I’m not mad about it. I sat at the bar and ordered a glass of Chenin Blanc.

As I waited I took in the hum of the Wednesday-night crowd. It was poppin’ in there. There was this enchanting energy of social xxx in the air. It lingered like a sweet perfume and I couldn’t help but soak it in and smile. I made up stories about the young man with his parents that he was often annoyed by but that evening found himself grateful to be in their presence after a hard week of classes and so many others in the room.

By the time the host ushered me to the table, I’d already met a Timeleft veteran named Gordana who’d been to 12 dinners. She gave me the insider rundown: what to expect, what to skip (apparently not every “after-hours meetup” is worth attending), and the secret WhatsApp groups where real connections continue.

And honestly? The dinner was so good.

The food. A delicious, crispy skin salmon with a gorgeous assortment of caramelized winter veggies like squash, brussel sprouts and vidalia onions.

The convo. We talked about everything — from investing in quality pillows to our favorite Massachusetts TJ Maxx locations (there was a heated debate there) to what stops our co-created “custom city tour” would include — apparently one of the premium features is the ATM at Delux Café.. We’re all ready excited about that too!

At one point in the convo, someone mentioned storytelling, and I flippantly said I wasn’t a great storyteller. Another guest looked me in the eye and said, “You’ve told multiple engaging stories tonight. Maybe stop that narrative.”

I laughed. Usually I’m the one offering that kind of reflection to others. It felt like a perfect heart warming spark to receive what I often give.

I left that dinner with a soul-deep smile. I felt full, not just from the meal, but from the reminder that connection doesn’t have to be complicated.

A Post Dinner Reflection…

I think self-care has an image problem.
We’ve been sold versions of it that often require products, project plans, and perfection.

But soul care?
Soul care feels both creative and ordinary.
It’s found in the small, intentional choices that remind us we’re human. Dinners with strangers, laughter over wine, stories shared loudly over clinking glasses.

This experience reminded me that joy and connection are the most underrated forms of self-investment. And that slowing down long enough to receive someone else’s humanity might just be one of the simplest, most nourishing rituals we have left.

I’m curious: what’s one small, ordinary thing that’s been unexpectedly soul-nourishing for you lately?

Hit reply and share in the comments, or shoot me dm on Instagram.

Can’t wait to hear!