Post what you want to do. Someone says “I’m in.” It happens within 24 hours. No swiping, no small talk — buttons, and showing up.
Three dials: what, how far, when. Turn them, or shuffle and let them land. What fits comes up as tickets — the best of what’s open, weighed by place, thing and who.
Tear a stub to say I’m in. The host picks one person. The room opens. Everything in it is a button.
No paragraphs. Showing up.
Printed as contour · serif · sweep
The circle · sorted by showing up
In depth · the recordNo profiles. Each person prints as a poster in their own register — the type, the ground, the motion — set by what they’re into, when they’re out, and their photo. Nobody is ranked by texting. Drift is normal; people fade, and come back.
A plan’s room has no keyboard. You say what you need to with a button — running late, here, change the place, call — and the other side hears it as a line on the ticket. Nothing to compose, nothing to leave on read.
Every plan is for the next 24 hours. Nothing lingers, nothing is scheduled for “sometime”. The board refills every day, and the morning after, one question: how was it — and would you again?
Nobody gives anybody stars. The morning after, you pick a few words and say whether you’d go again — that’s the record. One selfie, once, proves your photos are you; verified posters carry a shield.
iPhone first. Android right behind. Leave an address and you’ll get one mail when it’s out — no newsletter, no drip.