I invited 8 strangers to my house every month for 4 years

What started as my shortcut for making friends turned into one of the most meaningful habits of my 20s.

Even after the time my table caught fire because of a small candle, I still always choose to use scattered newspapers rather than a tablecloth. It gave a casual feeling, and something to talk about — I just became more candle cautious.

I’d been experimenting with different ways to bring people together and finally found something that worked: inviting eight people for dinner who didn’t know each other—and all came alone. Each person was invited by someone else who had come to dinner before. In a way making us all friends of friends, while attracting a certain type of person. Out of everything I’ve done, this “Eight people at eight” dinner series, is still one the things I’m the most proud of. But how did I get here?

2013 | Many of the people I still keep in touch with from Canada aren't the ones I grew up with — but are the people I met in my kitchen. At the time I was in my early twenties, studying in Toronto, and felt I was too busy to go out hoping I’d meet new people. Hosting house parties became a shortcut — If I couldn’t go out, I could bring people to me.

Answering the door on the street I saw the girl I knew standing on the sidewalk, with a group of about seven guys I’d never met. “Hey, welcome! Come on up!” This began a series of regular parties that brought me a social life. While also significantly contributing to the growing hatred my neighbour felt for me.

The invitation was always the same, and normally was last minute: ‘Invite anyone you think I know—or anyone you think I should know”. Then we’d watch the party grow, filling my linoleum-grey tiled apartment and spilling onto the back deck. This wasn’t that university frat bro party with red cups and drinking games, more so people just hanging out, and on the best nights lots of dancing. Nothing ever went missing and only the occasional broken glasses, most of which were just Nutella containers to begin with.

Looking around at one of these parties, I realized that people want to meet each other. They just needed the space for it to happen.

2016 | Changing to dinners
Three years later after moving to Berlin, I felt my days melting together, working 40+ hours a week. Again — I wasn’t exactly motivated to go out regularly— on the off chance I might meet someone new. I missed the excitement that came from bringing people together like I had in Toronto.

But in a city already running on “industrial scrap metal techno and cigarettes”, sending out an open-invite for a house party didn’t feel like a good idea. It felt like the quickest way to turn my Altbau building into a battleground with yet another neighbour.

With my separate aspirations of becoming a gentleman (more on that in another piece). I decided to learn to cook and settled on the tamer idea of hosting dinner parties.

Two of these guys were part of the group of seven who showed up at my door in Toronto. Here’s a photo of us five years later, on a rooftop in Berlin when they came to visit.

Why Eight people who arrive alone?
Eight people is a group small enough for everyone to share in one conversation, and actually get to know each other. But big enough for side chats to spark off naturally, without anyone feeling obligated to politely nod through a topic they didn’t care about.

After experimenting to workout the right number. This grew into a recurring stream of new people coming to my apartment for dinner once a month. If someone asked to bring a plus one, I politely decline, choosing to have everyone arrive alone. It allowed for all conversation to start fresh without anyone having a crutch to fall back on. It was a first impression for everyone, an open space free of history, to show up how you want.

The invite
After enough time I made a simple site to explain the idea, making it easier for people to invite others. Answering questions like what to bring (Nothing! But people always asked), why I was doing this, and how to recommend someone else after the dinner. Having the site also meant others could use it to host their own dinners.

Invitation page people could share when inviting someone new.

Two questions, No structure
Eventually I worked out that the dinners didn’t need a structure — that made it weird. Instead, I had two questions that each person would answer over the course of the night. These often led to branching and interesting conversations. But they also gave us something to fall back on if things started drifting into the shallow end of “meh” small talk. 1) How do you know the person who invited you? 2) What is something we might not know about you?

And seeing as ninety eight percent of the time we were all meeting for the first time, this could be anything. I’ve heard some surprising stories come from those questions.

I would have a polaroid camera on the table, and made sure to get at least one photo per dinner

The dinners were always simple. Nice bread from the bakery down the street. Butter, cheese, wine, and one main dish! I definitely got carried away at times. This needs to be something that could be mostly prepped beforehand, and then be put on as people started to arrive. We’d stand around the kitchen and break off into the different rooms, having different playlists in the kitchen, living room(where we ate), and the bathroom. Making any room feel welcoming and like you’re meant to be there.

Made a big pot of Beetroot risotto with candied walnuts. A recipe from a cookbook by Gaz Oakley

I’ve had people who love the night suggest I formalise this, or host this as paid event, but that’s not what it’s about. It’s about getting out of your own circle and having that unexpected conversation. It’s exciting the range of conversations “friends of friends” can have over the course of a few hours when they start fresh.

Sending out ripples they started to come back in unexpected ways. I’ve seen new friendships start, people start working together, I was invited to another 8@8 dinner that someone else hosted, and I even ended up spontaneously doing voice overs for an energy company a few nights after someone joined a dinner.

Small circles that never meet
I once had two people join the same dinner that worked on the same floor at the same company, invited by different people but had never met. Although they’d seen each other THAT DAY at an elevator they’d never spoken, until sitting down to dinner in my living room.

They say everyone is separated by 6 introductions to every other person in the world. But it can be hard to realise just how close we all are, when we are stuck in our everyday routines. Time flies by, and the people we meet, and how we spend our time rarely changes.

I needed to create the space for people to meet in my own life, rather than waiting for it to happen by chance.

Falling off
It’s one thing to know this and another to do something about it. It’s now been two years since my last Eight People at Eight dinner, and more than ten since throwing my open house parties in Toronto.

A lot’s changed — I’ve moved countries to a smaller city, I had a kid, and I bought a house. I’ve been making quiet, reasonable excuses to not do what I think about. I told myself I'd do it next month, that was six months ago. I’ve even written invitations three times, never hitting send.

Meeting people through my writing, like hearing

Carly Valancy

talk about reaching out to a new person for one hundred days, helped me realize how much I’ve stopped putting myself out there. But that feeling to bring people together is still there. Life’s too important to be busy, and this is probably the least busy I’ll ever be again. I’m thirty-four. If I’m not intentional about making space now, another two years will go by. And all the conversations, friendships, and connections that could’ve happened—won’t.

Starting this for yourself
I’m starting this again, and have that awkward feeling I get whenever I’m on the edge of the next step. Which is why I decided to use that feeling to write all of this to you, and give me a story I can share with my next invite.

Eight friends is all I need to get started.

I’ve lived here, in Bodø, long enough to now have those people I can invite for the first dinner, and then I’ll see where it grows. But just as I changed from house parties in Toronto to dinners in Berlin, I’m changing it again to fit my life now. I’m at the age and in a city, where a lot of people have kids that don't let you sleep in because you went out the night before.

Hosting a monthly Brunch on the last Sunday of every month feels right. I have no idea if this will work as well, but starting in June I’m going to find out!

When you do this yourself, pick a day of the week that works for you. I used to host 8@8 Dinners on Wednesdays at 8pm, hence the name. I was inviting strangers, and didn’t want to compete with weekend plans.

A Sunday makes sense for me, it lets one parent slip away for a light brunch and drinks during the day. Then I can still be in bed without having to pay for it, with a two day energy hangover. I’m looking forward to making new ripples and seeing what comes. If you’re ever in Norway I’d love to have you for brunch.

Ps. I love hearing how people do this for themselves, let me know it goes!