Nathalia Durval
The meme “R$2 or a mystery dinner” has never made so much sense on Timeleft, a platform that connects people who have never met. It appeared in Portugal a year ago, is present in 12 countries and has just arrived in Brazil.
In this case, you are the one who pays for the mystery dinner – from R$39.99 to R$199, depending on the plan. After answering an extensive form, which includes questions about personal tastes and personality, an algorithm matches you with five people for dinner in an unknown place. It’s like gastronomic Tinder.
Timeleft meeting, a platform that brings strangers together for dinner –
“Meet people as fascinating as episodes of your favorite TV show”, says the advertisement. The meetings take place on Wednesdays, at 8pm, in seven Brazilian capitals. I went to one of these dinners in São Paulo on a Wednesday last month, without identifying myself as a reporter. The address is only provided on the morning of the meeting.
The venue was Ceia Clandestina, which wasn’t really a restaurant, but a project that promotes monthly dinners in Pinheiros. As soon as I arrived, I realized that Timeleft is used by many as a dating app. The brand’s own marketing encourages this idea.
The women and men there, aged between 20 and 40, looked great. They would shyly glance at the tables next to them, to see if they could find someone more interesting next door.
When I arrived, there was only one guy at my table. We started a conversation that seemed like a date. Name, profession, what you like to do and so on. He, who introduced himself to everyone as an agroboy, ended up being the protagonist of the night.
Perhaps due to a lack of tact or extreme difficulty in interacting, he made embarrassing jokes – which sometimes bordered on scatology and crime. “Guys, have you ever killed an old man?” She created stories to say “just kidding, it’s a lie”. At first, she laughed confusedly. Afterwards, no one tried to understand anymore.
While he was pouring the second beer, I ordered a water. First mistake. He brought to the table a glass with an ice cube that had questionable brown spots inside. I found it safer to drink the water straight from the bottle. I didn’t even risk trying the drinks – important for socializing –, which were packed with ice.
The food menu had three main dishes. The second mistake was ordering carbonara, which was anything but real carbonara. It took a while to arrive and the pasta wasn’t cooked enough. The dough was hard and turned into flour when chewed. It was R$60 very badly spent.
A rain that started just before 8pm caused many to be late or cancel their participation. Those who arrived late made the group repeat the same protocol presentations.
The only information we know about the strangers, released the day before on the app, is their star sign, area of ​​work and nationality. Due to an error, participants’ first and last names were displayed when they checked the option that they would arrive late. It was, therefore, easy to stalk future companions on social media. I chose to keep the mystery.
From our group, two people didn’t go, including a Colombian. The platform seems to be successful in other countries. At the party next door, there was an Englishman. We incorporated two women who were alone at their table.
To help break the ice, the application releases a question game, only available in Portuguese, which makes it more comical. The questions start out silly, like “what was the last series you ran a marathon?”, but lead to “have you ever been a victim of discrimination or prejudice?”, “have you ever experienced a loss that profoundly changed your outlook on life?”
Heavy questions for people who had never met and which quickly lowered the group’s mood. Maybe it even works with Europeans, but it doesn’t work here. People wanted to know about sex, and the agroboy said “what was the most unusual place you had sex?”. The conversation went from that level onwards.
In the middle of dinner, the platform suggests a bar for after dinner. The participants, however, did not know about this part or did not understand how it worked. We stayed there.
The person who probably did the aftercare himself was one of our diners, fresh from a facial harmonization session. Keeping an eye on the table next to him, he found a boy who he discovered he had ignored on social media in the past, but who, personally, he was interested in.
He spent dinner staring at him passionately, while we encouraged him to take initiative. One of the colleagues, out of patience with what had become one of the main topics, shouted the name of someone else’s crush. It worked. The two greeted each other and promised to continue the conversation later.
I didn’t stay to find out the end of the story. Two people left around 10:30 p.m. My social battery was already running out and I preferred to go home too.
After the meeting, we access a tab to evaluate the group and the experience. If we want to continue chatting with someone, we give them a like and, if they match, a chat opens. I disliked everyone. In the end, they would be people I wouldn’t invite to dinner parties. Roll of weird people.
Discover dining apps
Timeleft
Dinners every WednesdayMondays, at 8pm. From R$39.99 (single ticket) to R$199 (six-month package). Consumption not included. Register at timeleft.com/pt or Timeleft app (iOS and Android). @timeleft
Confra
Meetings every FridayMondays, at 8pm. From R$ 29.90 (single ticket) to R$ 49.90 (monthly subscription) Consumption not included. Registration at confraclub.com.br. @confra_club
Source: Folha
I have worked as a journalist for over 10 years, and my work has been featured on many different news websites. I am also an author, and my work has been published in several books. I specialize in opinion writing, and I often write about current events and controversial topics. I am a very well-rounded writer, and I have a lot of experience in different areas of journalism. I am a very hard worker, and I am always willing to put in the extra effort to get the job done.
