Seven

 

Your next seven days. Three of them are mine.

The third wheel in your relationship, and the only one with a plan.

The week ahead Tap an empty one
   

 

 

  an example

One email from me when it’s your turn. I’m not going to write you a newsletter.

How it goes

  1. We talk, once.

    About two minutes. What you two like, what you’d never do, and who I’m dealing with.

  2. I come back with plans.

    Worked out end to end — where, when, and what actually happens. You each get your own set.

  3. You tell me what’s wrong.

    Too far, too loud, he hates oysters. Say the word and I’ll do it again.

The asking is the good part

Pick one and I design the invitation from scratch — no two of mine are alike. It opens like an envelope, with sound. Your partner can say yes without downloading anything, and you both get a bit of a scene when they do.

An invitation for Sam and Maya: Sunset Sailing, Encore. The same ferry, four years on. An invitation reading no peeking, Maya: paint-your-own mugs and khao soi on Sunday. An invitation marked classified: The Vault Heist, then handmade pasta in Belltown.

Right. Your turn.

I’m on a handful of phones and taking more. Leave your email and I’ll tell you the moment there’s room for you two.

One email from me when it’s your turn — I’m not going to write you a newsletter.