Can't find what you're looking for?
View all search results
What happens when two Aries, a Virgo, a Libra, a Sagittarius and an Aquarius walk into a Japanese restaurant?
Because I had resolved to make new friends, I was about to find out.
Nearing 30, I was craving more blurry nights and embarrassing moments, the kind you can laugh off in your 20s but would feel out of place in the next decade.
Enter Timeleft.
I had seen the ads on my feed countless times: “Where people with the same vibe find each other” or “Find your tribe.” A platform designed to connect strangers over dinners every Wednesday, it seemed exactly what I needed to push me out of my comfort zone. And there’d be alcohol to take the edge off.
Think of it as a blind date, but without the pressure or the inevitable letdowns.
Before I could jump in, Timeleft had some questions. It wasn’t as simple as signing up.
The app felt like one of those 16-personality quizzes: Are you an introvert? Are you a stressed person? How often do you feel lonely? What factors do you base your opinions on?
As I answered, I wondered who I’d be matched with. If artificial intelligence is already a part of so many corners of our lives, could it also find me a “tribe”?
Turns out, it could.
My second renaissance
So there I was, on Dec. 18, nervously anticipating my first Timeleft dinner at Aomori Shokudo in Kuningan. I distracted myself by browsing the menu beforehand, deciding to focus on chicken katsu curry instead of my nerves.
Luckily, I wasn’t the first to arrive. Being alone in a restaurant is high on my “irrational fears” list, so I quietly thanked both Jakarta traffic and my lucky stars.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one worried.
“I thought I was going to be ghosted. I heard that happens sometimes,” the Sagittarius girl said.
I didn’t press for more.
Soon enough, we were a table of six.
Time passed effortlessly as we exchanged stories about work, our backgrounds and little pieces of ourselves. By the end of the night, I learned I wasn’t the only Hakka-descendant at the table or the only one who had called Boston home.
But more importantly, I was reminded of who I once was: an extroverted college girl with a clean slate in front of her, free to be anyone she wanted to be. The fact that none of us had mutual friends helped—it felt like starting over with a fresh canvas.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed a reset button until it was right in front of me. That’s the magic of meeting new people: shedding the least-favorite parts of yourself and rediscovering the version of you that you truly love.
By the end of dinner, I felt lighter. I left with the feeling that I’d gained back a part of myself I’d forgotten, a piece of me I thought was gone.
It was refreshing—so unlike the exclusive circles that are common in Jakarta, where being the 'newcomer' can feel like infiltrating a fortress.
It struck me how funny it was that my “second renaissance” came not with old friends who knew me best, but with strangers who knew me not at all. I thought that part of my life had ended when I turned 21, but there it was—alive and thriving on a random Wednesday night.
The aftermath
Dinner wasn’t the end of the night. Timeleft kept the momentum going with a visit to Mr. Fox at the Energy Building in SCBD.
I was nervous, though. I was the only first-timer in the group. Everyone else had friends from previous dinners, and I worried I’d feel like an outsider. But that’s what tequila is for, right?
To my surprise, everyone was welcoming and approachable. It was refreshing—so unlike the exclusive circles that are common in Jakarta, where being the “newcomer” can feel like infiltrating a fortress.
It’s not that Indonesians are unfriendly. But breaking into an established group—whether it’s your partner’s friends or your colleague’s crew—can be tricky. It’s hard to fit in when everyone already shares inside jokes, past memories and a mutual comfort zone.
Timeleft was the opposite of that.
Everyone was open and eager to connect, treating each other like long-lost friends. I didn’t once feel the need to look at my phone and pretend to be busy—a rare moment for anyone these days.
By the end of the night, I’d made 10 new connections on Instagram. Only one of them had two mutuals with people I already knew.
Everyone else? Not someone I would have ever crossed paths with if I didn’t get out of my comfort zone. With them, I could be anyone I wanted to be.
Of course, I had to call it a night before the clock struck midnight—it was a Wednesday, after all, and tequila or not, I needed to get up for work the next day.
Still, I left with a belly full of laughter, a handful of inside jokes and a promise to attend more Timeleft dinners.
