Five prompts. One read, by an actual person, supported by tooling. One match a week. No swiping, no card stack, no infinite catalog. The whole thing fits on a luggage tag.
Not a personality test. Not a values quiz. Five short essays in your own voice, that we — and one carefully-chosen other person — actually read. Take your time. Most people write theirs over a couple of evenings.
The thing you drag around isn't always the thing it started as. Tell us how something has metabolized — what it was when you got it, what it is now, and what you did between the two.
Not the one that broke you. The one that put something back. We're looking for the texture of how you receive care, who you let in, and how you describe it when nobody's grading.
Everyone has a version. Tell us what someone who didn't choose you has called too much, and what you actually think about it now. We're matching on this. Heavily.
The boring, tiny, unphotogenic thing. The walk you take, the song you replay, the dish you make for one. We need this so we don't only match on weight — repair runs on small joys.
Not a wish list. The thing that, if a stranger wrote it after reading you, would make you reply. This becomes the quiet matching criterion — it tells us what kind of recognition you're looking for.
Once you've answered the five prompts, your responses get distilled into a single tag — a tight summary the matcher uses, plus the full text alongside. Only the matcher and your eventual match read the long form. Below, an anonymized tag, exactly as we'd see it.
After your tag is filed, here's the rhythm. Quiet for most of the week. One Monday-morning delivery. One thoughtful reply, or no pressure. Then it starts again.
You finish the five prompts at your own pace — nothing is timed.
A carrier reads your tag. Nobody pings you. You go about your week.
We pair you with one tag whose match-key answers yours.
Both of you get sent the other's tag — full text, no photos yet.
Write back, or close the email. There's no scoring. No ghosting metric.
Only after both sides reply. By then, you've actually read each other.
Take it off the platform. We don't measure your conversations.
No buried clauses. Six lines, plainly. If any of these become untrue, we'll tell you.
Get on the list. We'll send the prompts when we open intake.
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