Mostly, I consider Nextdoor a cesspool of comments by NIMBYs. Occasionally, though, I see an intriguing post, like the recent one about meeting five other people, strangers, for a meal at a local restaurant. I signed up for SIXTOP.
While I’ve lived in Marin for decades and have a posse of good friends, at 63, my world is changing. People close to me are retiring and moving to less expensive areas. Some have passed away.
Last year, I left the home I’d lived in for almost three decades and moved to a new place. I haven’t met a single neighbor.
On the day of the gathering, I questioned why I thought breaking bread with a group I didn’t know was a good idea. I don’t come across as shy, but I am. Now I’d committed to acting chipper and making conversation with strangers.
I arrived early in downtown Fairfax and sat in my car looking in the rearview mirror and floofing my hair. Finally, I took a deep breath, opened the door and walked over to Amelie Café.
The host called me beautiful on my way in, something he probably says to every woman. I cocked my head, decided I didn’t care and told him it’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in years. He pointed me to a table tucked outside in the corner.
A woman was already there. Two more joined us. That was it, only four gals.
Pretty good ratio for single men. If they only knew, they’d be signing up in droves.
I understood going in that everyone attending would be in their 50s and 60s, since SIXTOP divides the get-togethers by age groups. That works for me. I’ve always wanted a hiking buddy, but a millennial would just get frustrated with my huffing and puffing.
The discussion was fairly surface level. Children came up frequently. I don’t have any.
The youngest in our group had attended a few SIXTOP events, although she hasn’t seen any of her fellow diners since. A transplant from the East Coast, she works from home and rarely meets anyone new.
Another reinvented herself with a new career at 67, leaving the corporate sector to teach high school in Richmond. She starts this week.
We talked about the sun and how much time we spent under it, with and without sunscreen. Suddenly, we were all pulling up our sleeves and comparing the color of our arms. With my mottling, I won the skin damage contest.
The woman sitting next to me shared with us that she is a widow. Her husband, the love of her life, died 10 years ago. She said that she can finally talk about it. I placed my palm on her knee, and the woman on the opposite side of the table gently reached for her hand.
Toward the end of the night, we all said we wanted to stay in touch. Nobody exchanged a phone number.
I called Derek Brown, who started SIXTOP in early 2024, to ask why he thought it was a good idea to round up strangers for a meal. He and his wife had moved from San Francisco to Mill Valley just before the pandemic hit. When the lockdown lifted, they wanted to go to a restaurant with friends on a Saturday night. Then he realized they knew just one other person in town, and that wouldn’t have been much of a dinner party.
“I woke up at 4 in the morning, and I was like, I got it,” Brown said. “I put it on Nextdoor: ‘Here’s a social experiment. Anybody interested in going to get dinner with my wife and me?’”
Four people came. The next day, he posted on Nextdoor that they’d had a great time and wanted to do it again. Sixty responded, all interested in meeting up.
Brown has a theory about why people show up. Ask them if they’re lonely, and they’ll say “no,” he said. If the answer is yes, they won’t put it that way.
“I think it’s because there’s a stigma,” he said.
Phones, social media and even headphones have pulled people further inside themselves, according to Brown. It’s true. I walk my dog with my earbuds in and don’t even notice folks reaching out to pet her, only seeing them when she turns around for someone’s outstretched hand.
“The second you sort of open yourself up to that, you realize, oh man, I’ve been missing this,” Brown said.
Kenneth, 59, an architect, found SIXTOP after surviving melanoma and spending months housebound.
“It was about being lonely because I was recovering from all these surgeries,” he told me.
He met an 80-year-old photographer at SIXTOP. They just celebrated their one-year anniversary.
To make the most of the experience, Kenneth suggests exchanging numbers on the spot. Make a plan right there to get together again, whether it’s to go for a walk or out to a show. Waiting even a week risks losing the connection.
Phyl has been to SIXTOP five or six times, for the company and to try new restaurants. Once, a woman at dinner asked if anyone kayaked.
“And at the same table, somebody put their hand up and said, ‘I do,’” Phyl shared. “They’re now kayaking together.”
A different night, Phyl and four others endured a man dead set on talking about Bitcoin, no matter how many times everyone else changed the subject. Finally, someone told him to stop. He never did. One by one, the diners got up and left without saying goodbye.
Not every dinner works out. Still, Phyl has advice for the hesitant, like me.
“I would encourage people to get out there and meet people and live it up,” she said. “Nikki, I think you should go some more.”
Will I? I’m not sure yet. As a reporter, I’m used to asking the questions, and it felt uncomfortable being on the receiving end. It’s easy to reveal myself to readers who I’ll never meet, but in person, it’s painful. Then again, having a two-way conversation just takes practice.
My circle has been shrinking, and I’d like to widen it. A hiking partner or a coffee companion would be enough.
I’ll try. And next time, I might even get someone’s phone number.
For more information about attending a SIXTOP dinner, visit sixtop.io.
