What I've Learned Talking to Strangers Outside Bars

Field notes from showing up at venues, talking to strangers, and learning what the app still needs to become.

Nobody tells you this part.

You build the app. You ship it. You print the cards. And then you go stand outside dance venues on Friday nights and talk to strangers about a problem they didn't know had a solution yet.

This is that part.

The women outside Whiskey River North

It was a Friday. Three women sitting outside before heading in. I gave them the pitch — check in, get a color, tap Ask, mutual match, nobody gets rejected. They got it fast. Faster than most.

Then I got to the rating screen. After a dance you rate how it went — Great, Good, Not a great fit. One of them made a face. Didn't say anything. Just a face.

I filed that away.

Then she asked the question I wasn't expecting.

"What if someone is too handsy? Can I make sure I never match with them again?"

Not alarmed. Just matter-of-fact. Like it was a reasonable thing to want. Because it is.

I told her yes. And then I went home and designed it.

After a dance that didn't work, a quiet pill appears under "Not a great fit."

One tap. Silent. Permanent. No notification to the other person. No confrontation. No explanation required. They simply never appear in your browse list again.

It's not built into a shipping version yet — that comes in a future update. But the design is locked and the reason it exists is standing outside a bar on a Friday night in Cypress, Texas.

It doesn't feel like a block because it isn't one. It's just a preference. The dance floor equivalent of quietly choosing a different corner of the room.

The face on the rating screen

I've been thinking about that face since May 29th.

Every other time I've demoed the rating screen it gets the strongest positive reaction of any feature. People lean in. They get it immediately. They want it.

One face that said something different is one data point. But I'm watching for it. In a bar environment, perception is reality. If "rating" feels like judgment rather than feedback, that's a problem worth solving before it becomes a pattern.

I don't have an answer yet. Just a face I haven't forgotten.

The dance instructor

I ran into him at a venue. Someone I know — took lessons from him, actually. I gave him the pitch on the spot, fumbled around trying to find the demo video, couldn't pull it up in time.

He said it was cool.

I've heard "that's cool" enough times now to know what it means and what it doesn't. The video would have done more than the words. I know that now.

I found the video after. Marked it a favorite. The follow-up email is written. Ready for next time.

What I know now that I didn't know in May

Bartenders get it faster than anyone. Every single one. No convincing required. They've watched the problem play out from behind the bar for years. When I describe it, they're already nodding before I finish the sentence.

Dancers are harder. Not because they don't want it — they do. But they need to see it work first. That's still the gap. That's still the chicken and the egg.

The app is ready. The venues are seeded. The cards are on the tables. Three bartenders have stacks of them and are handing them out organically. A script is written for a video that Zoe — bartender, believer, not an actor — is going to shoot with me one slow night at the bar.

We're both going to be awkward the first two takes. By the third one it'll feel like a conversation. Because it is.

In the meantime I've been heads-down on a second project — a private app called Remember Project. Different app, same instinct: see a real problem, build something for it.

IJAD is waiting for critical mass. I'm not waiting with it.

Nobody tells you this part because most people don't do this part. They launch and wait.

I'm not waiting.

The first match is coming. When it happens, you'll read about it here.