We Need To Talk About Partiful

Imagine this: its the middle of the afternoon and you’re walking to a covfefe shop to grab a $9 almond milk latte and then your phone vibrates. Hope. Change. What does this glorious day bring? You take out your phone and see that you’ve just received a text with a Partiful link — “RSVP to X’s event”. No other information in the text. Just a link. Just a vibe. You click on it, read a brief description of the event, check “👍 I’m Going,” and then are forced to fill out information — phone number, government name, political party registration. FINALLY, you’re granted access to the event’s geographic location.

For some idiosyncratic reason, it’s really difficult to get the event’s location after you’ve RSVP’d “👍I’m Going .” You either have to RSVP “👍I’m Going ” again, or act like the year is 2015 and simply ask a friend.

I know what you’re thinking at this point: Daniel, don’t be bitter, you’re lucky to have friends and you shouldn’t be lampooning whichever technology your friends just so happen to use to invite you to their amazing events.

That’s all true.

But just to get it out of the way, I’ve covered my bases and alerted a friend, who the other day kindly sent me a Partiful link, about this polemic:

I’ve recently been using Facebook Marketplace to scavenge for furniture. My return to Zuckerberg’s demented playground has made me slightly nostalgic for the Obama era. Listen, I will give Zuck this: Facebook’s Events feature successfully streamlined the party planning process. Back in the day, it was easy to write a mildly humorous description, throw some fun pix, keep the event private, and give attendees the crucial info of where this party is located. Yes, there was that whole Project X fiasco story: an event invite went viral and thousands of Party Rockers crashed.

Maybe, that’s how Partiful came about. Someone feared that their little CBD soda launch would become the next Project X and thus, sought out technology that made basic information harder to find.

We live in an age of contradictions. People want to livestream their Telehealth Cognitive Behavioral Therapy sessions and tell their 300 followers every last detail about how their French Bulldog needs a new psychiatrist and yet, simultaneously, cling to fading sense of mystique during the most arbitrary of circumstances. A 2022 New York Times profile of Partiful describes the company as a cure to the cosmopolitan class’s pressing woes:

“The service, which is free to use, is gaining popularity among people in their 20s who live in big cities and who say it is more streamlined than group texts or Instagram stories, more casual than Paperless Post and less embarrassing than Facebook, which has lost its grip on people under 30.”

But I think it’s well past time that Millennials and Gen Z push back against the anti-Facebook hate train, and return to the platform for solely two purposes: events and exchanging/buying Mid-Century Modern furniture that we will probably get rid of in two years. That’s it. Just use it for those two things. Don’t mind the Russian bots trying to sway voters in three counties in Michigan. Just use Facebook for Mid-Century Modern furniture and low stakes picnics and go about your day. Why? Because I am tired and frustrated and can’t keep track of all these Partiful invites. And despite all the quirky, queer-owned-business-adjacent aesthetics of Partiful, there’s something potentially sinister at play.

One friend — my one source for this rant — alleges that after she filled out out her info for a Partiful invite, she is now getting bombarded with Partiful invites she never even heard about. Jewelry launch events. Tenants of The Trees events. All sorts of parties from the same mysterious five digit number.

Dear Daddy Data, this is unsustainable.

I don’t know too much about Partiful and their emojis and intentions. Maybe, like yes, Facebook, it’s just a glorified data-collection scheme. But what I do know is that I am over it. If you’re reading this and invited me to an important life event using Partiful, thank you once again. That’s not the problem here. The problem is why can’t we just do group chat texts. The problem is why are we being forced to communicate via emojis.

So, next time you want to be in the presence of a sentient version of this Substack (in other words, invite me to an event so I can share takes like these over a box of fancy cupcakes that I will so kindly bring), please send me a text, a letter, email, or carrier pigeon. I don’t care anymore. This is my line in the sand.

What I bring to a picnic.

In hehe-Millennial-Gen Z-omg-did-u-freakin-read-my-Substack-speak, this is my Boundary™.

Now let’s close things off with “Your Boundary Is My Trigger” — a song about Jewish family dynamics™ from the Transparent series finale that nobody talks about: