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No holiday plans? This social app will match you with a group of strangers for dinner

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No holiday plans? This social app will match you with a group of strangers for dinner

When David Brown moved from Chicago to Los Angeles this summer, one of the first things he did was download an app that aims to “fight big-city loneliness.”

The 35-year-old sales director had seen an Instagram ad for Timeleft, which matches users with strangers for dinner via a personality algorithm. Since he only knew a handful of people in his new city, he decided to give it a shot.

On the night of his first dinner, Brown, a self-described introvert, was “super nervous” as Timeleft provides participants with limited details about who they will be dining with, including their job industry and zodiac sign. No names or photos are disclosed. But Brown’s fears were quickly dispelled once the host led him to his assigned table and he met the other diners, who were just as anxious as he was.

“It’s difficult to meet people in L.A. and I know it’s not just me because a lot of the people who’ve come to these dinners have been living in L.A. for 20 years,” says Cristina Haraba.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

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“Everybody kind of committed to the experience and was just open minded,” says Brown, who lives in West Hollywood. Afterward, the group went to a bar hangout, also facilitated by Timeleft, for drinks and to meet other app users who also went to a dinner that night.

“I made at least two best friends at that first dinner,” says Brown, adding that one of them is now his roommate. Since then, he’s been going to Timeleft dinners almost every week and has started an Instagram group for users to stay in touch.

Brown is one of nearly 10,000 Angelenos who have attended a Timeleft dinner since the platform — which started in Lisbon last year and is now in more than 300 cities in 65 countries — expanded to L.A. in May. Los Angeles is the app’s second- largest market in the United States, behind New York City.

Every Wednesday (excluding some holidays), Timeleft hosts more than 400 dinners in L.A. neighborhoods — stretching from Santa Monica to North Hollywood — with the purpose of helping attendees meet new people and hopefully make a friend. In an effort to combat loneliness, particularly during the holiday season — a 2023 survey by ValuePenguin found that 61% of Americans expected to feel lonely or sad during the season — Timeleft is hosting dinners on Dec. 25 and Jan. 1, both of which fall on a Wednesday. Among the participating restaurants, which are open to the public on the holidays, are Butcher’s Daughter, Zinque and Formosa Cafe.

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Carlie Armstrong, who leads Timeleft’s West Coast region, says the company wanted to offer an alternative option during the holidays for people who may have lost loved ones, who live far from their families or those who may not have a good relationship with them.

“This is also a particularly polarizing year so there are a lot of people who maybe are shying away from those interactions and maybe want to try something new during this time, but still be with other people,” she says. A recent American Psychological Association survey of more than 2,000 U.S. adults found that nearly 40% participants said they are avoiding relatives they disagree with politically during the holiday season.

Jonathan Alexander listens to Cristina Haraba as they dine together with strangers at Bacari in Los Angeles

Jonathan Alexander listens to Cristina Haraba talk during a recent Timeleft dinner with strangers at Bacari in West Hollywood.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

Each of the holiday dinners will follow the format a typical Timeleft gathering. To join, you can purchase a ticket for $16 or sign up for a membership starting at $26 per month, then you will be prompted to select your preferred dinner date. Users can also indicate their budget for dinner as the app works with various types of restaurants (casual, fine dining, etc.). On the Tuesday before the event, you’ll receive a brief introduction about your fellow diners. Guests are responsible for paying for their own meals.

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Before your Timeleft dinner, you'll learn a few details about your fellow diners in the app.

Before your Timeleft dinner, you’ll learn a few details about your fellow diners in the app.

I attended my first Timeleft dinner last month at Bacari in West Hollywood. Upon arrival, I showed the hostess my table number, which was provided by the app, and two other folks who were there for the dinner introduced themselves to me. A staffer then guided us to our table and eventually four other diners — one of whom was celebrating his birthday — trickled in to join us. Everyone in my group had attended at least five dinners with the platform, so they were past the awkwardness that you’d think would come from meeting with a group of strangers for the first time.

Conversation flowed effortlessly at our table, so much so that we didn’t even pull out the question game that Timeleft provides to help break the ice. As we threw back strong cocktails and nibbled on delicious shareable plates, we talked about our jobs, hobbies, hometowns and upbringings (one woman had moved to L.A. from Romania). At one point, I told the group that someone I used to date, but hadn’t seen in a year, had walked into the room, which launched a venting session about dating woes in L.A. We were comfortable, to say the least, and anyone walking by would’ve thought we’d known each other much longer than two hours.

The restaurant would only take a limited number of credit cards although staff encouraged us to share plates, so we had a minor headache trying to figure out how to split the bill. Ultimately, one person put their card down and we sent them money.

Strangers interact as they dine together at Bacari in Los Angeles

Maxime Barbier, who lives in Paris, founded Timeleft in 2023 because he wanted to help people combat loneliness in big cities.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

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Cristina Haraba, 42, who moved to L.A. from London three years ago, is considering attending one of the app’s holiday dinners because she doesn’t have any family in town. Like Brown, she came across an ad for Timeleft on Instagram and decided to go because she was struggling to make friends.

“It’s difficult to meet people in L.A. and I know it’s not just me because a lot of the people who’ve come to these dinners have been living in L.A. for 20 years. Some of them were born here,” says Haraba, who said she is used to having a “very rich social life.”

Haraba, who’s originally from Romania, has been to about six Timeleft dinners so far and has made a few friends she still keeps in touch with. What keeps her coming back is the opportunity to try new restaurants in her area and meet interesting people who she can explore the city with, she says.

Timeleft founder Maxime Barbier, who lives in Paris, says it was important for him to target the app to folks of various ages, including people like his 71-year-old dad. Barbier encouraged his dad to attend a dinner after he suffered a serious brain accident that caused him to be less social. He now goes at least once a month, Barber says.

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“Something I find sad is that all the new concepts are really focused on the new generation like ‘This is only for Gen Z,’” Barbier says. “But people who are the same age as my parents know how to use a computer or an iPhone and I think they need help because they [can get] lonely.” At most Timeleft dinners, people are paired with people who are within 10 years of their age, but some folks have been matched with folks of other generations as well.

Myra Hermosa, 37, grew up in the San Fernando Valley, but recently moved back to the area after living in San Diego and North Carolina for a few years.

Strangers interact as they dine together at Bacari in Los Angeles on Wednesday, November 20, 2024.

“What sold it for me was that you have five people at that dinner table who you never would’ve met had you just gone through your day to day life,” says Myra Hermosa, 37.

(Etienne Laurent / For The Times)

“When I got back here, I was like “Welp, most of my friends are gone, or at least not in the area,” says Hermosa, who works from home. She decided to attend her first Timeleft dinner this summer because she was “itching to get out, make friends and be social again,” she says.

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“What sold it for me was that you have five people at that dinner table who you never would’ve met had you just gone through your day to day life. And they were just sharing their stories, their background, where they come from and what they do for a living,” Hermosa says, adding that she met an actress and an army veteran. They played Timeleft’s game in the app, which included reflective questions like “Why did you move to L.A.?” and “What is an event that had a significant impact on your life?” “I figured how crazy is it that these five people are sitting at a table and actually talking and interacting? This is kind of cool.”

For those who are thinking about attending one of Timeleft’s holiday dinners or on another Wednesday night, former attendees say it’s essential to remain open, be yourself and to follow up if you vibe with someone.

“Don’t be afraid to be honest,” says Brown, adding that the dinners have helped him gain confidence. “If you can’t be vulnerable, it’s going to be really hard for people to relate to you in your experience. We’re all at this dinner table for a reason. Most of us are here to make more friends, not just to sit at dinner with a stranger for two and a half hours.”

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‘How to Rule the World’ explores education and power at Stanford University

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‘How to Rule the World’ explores education and power at Stanford University

Students walk on the Stanford University campus on March 14, 2019, in Stanford, Calif.

Ben Margot/AP


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Ben Margot/AP

When Theo Baker arrived at Stanford University a few years ago, he joined the student newspaper, following the path of his journalist parents, Peter Baker, a White House correspondent for The New York Times, and Susan Glasser, a writer for The New Yorker.

Through his reporting as a student journalist, he eventually broke a story about manipulated data in Stanford President Marc Tessier-Lavigne’s neuroscience research that helped lead to the university president’s resignation.

Theo Baker’s book, How to Rule the World: An Education in Power at Stanford University was released May 19. In it, Baker describes Stanford as a place where proximity to Silicon Valley gives rise to a parallel system of influence, recruitment and money, with investors looking to identify promising students almost as soon as they arrive on campus.

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He told Morning Edition host Steve Inskeep there was “a sort of Stanford inside Stanford,” where elite students are drawn into an “alternate reality” of excess and access to cut corners.

In the interview, he discusses how Stanford is not just a university but also a pipeline where status and power can matter as much as ideas.

We reached out to Stanford University for comment and have not heard back.

Listen to the interview by clicking play on the blue box above.

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OTB Takes Full Control of Viktor & Rolf

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OTB Takes Full Control of Viktor & Rolf
The Italian fashion group behind Diesel and Maison Margiela is taking full ownership of the avant-garde haute couture house, acquiring the remaining 30 percent it didn’t already own. Founders Viktor Horsting and Rolf Snoeren remain creative directors.
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How having zero points in tennis — or ‘love’ — came to sound so sweet

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How having zero points in tennis — or ‘love’ — came to sound so sweet

The scoreboard shows the results of the women’s singles final match between Iga Swiatek of Poland and Amanda Anisimova of the U.S. at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships in London, Saturday, July 12, 2025.

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Kirsty Wigglesworth/AP

Fifteen points in tennis? Nice. Thirty, 40 — even better. Advantage — that sounds good. “Love” — that also must be great, right? Well, not quite.

As the French Open rolls on and Serena Williams has announced her return to the sport, maybe you’ve been paying a little more attention to tennis. The sport’s scoring system is notably distinct, and can sometimes be hard to grasp for newcomers. But even tennis aficionados might not know why, or how, “love” became the unmistakable callout for zero points. For this installment of NPR’s Word of the Week, we’re exploring how a word that signifies trailing behind got such a sweet name.

“Love” comes from the heart — or an egg?

It’s hard to pinpoint when the first tennis ball went over the net. Tennis is a derivative of lots of other sports, such as “jeu de paume,” a handball game played in France, said JT Buzanga, the collections manager at the International Tennis Hall of Fame museum.

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But tennis became a patented, official sport in 1874, said Steve Flink, a journalist whose tennis coverage got him inducted into the International Tennis Hall of Fame. It has retained its unique, mysterious scoring system ever since.

“By and large, the original system has held up almost entirely,” Flink said.

The use of “love” goes back to the late 18th century, said Jesse Sheidlower, a lexicographer. But it was used earlier than that in card games such as whist and bridge. Before the term made its way to tennis, the sport favored plain old “nothing,” or “nil,” he said.

Why love in the first place, though? Historians don’t really know for sure, but there are a few theories.

The French could have something to do with it. Some historians believe “love” derives from “l’oeuf,” which means “the egg” in French. Because eggs are shaped like zeros, terms such as “goose egg” and “duck’s egg” have been used in other contexts to mean zero, Sheidlower said.

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It’s also possible English speakers mispronounced l’oeuf as “love.” But Sheidlower isn’t convinced that’s the answer.

“It’s the French equivalent of an English expression. But since that expression doesn’t appear in French, the French word wouldn’t have been used,” he said.

To be sure, France has had a lot of influence on tennis culture, Buzanga said. For example, “deuce” or a game tied at 40 points, comes from the French word for “two”: “deux.” But he prefers another prominent theory: that “love” comes from the idiom “for the love of the game.” Even if a player hasn’t scored, it doesn’t matter, because their heart is in it. It’s the theory Sheidlower said is the most plausible, because the idiom was used by the English before tennis was popularized.

Another variation of the “love of the game” theory is that the word could have come from the Dutch “lof,” or “honor” — or the Latin “amare,” meaning “to love,” Flink said.

But if tennis’ “love” doesn’t come from a French word, the theory at least has a French sensibility.

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“I think the ‘for the love of the game’ is kind of romantic,” Buzanga said.

“Love” probably isn’t going anywhere

Tennis used to be a sport of leisure. The style of play has changed a lot over the years; players are more athletic and competitive, for instance, Flink said. But the rules of the sport are more steadfast, he said.

“There’s this incredible, enduring respect for tradition in tennis,” he said. “Changes are not made easily.”

There has been one major change in modern history: the tie-break. Matches can go on and on because players have to score two consecutive points to break a deuce, or by two games to break a tied set. But the onset of television meant matches would have to get shorter if the sport wanted to capture a larger audience, Flink said.

Change even came for “love.” An alternative sprouted up in the 1970s, and is still used today: “bagel,” named for its zero shape, Sheidlower said. Novices may say “zero,” and insiders will understand what they mean, but they “will needle them about it,” Flink said.

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But “love” still prevails.

“People kind of like it,” Flink said. “It’s different. Why say zero when you can say love?”

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