Everyone comes alone on purpose.
Solos is a small, hosted afternoon where everyone in the room is single, no one's there to be interviewed, and the introductions that matter happen quietly the next morning.
Most singles events end when the lights come on. You spend two hours performing, you leave with nothing, and the one person you wanted to talk to disappeared at nine. Solos flips the order. The afternoon is just for enjoying the room, and the connecting happens the next morning, one introduction at a time, through a host who was standing right there.
A Saturday afternoon room in Atlanta, capped at twenty-four people. Here is the shape of it.
I meet you at the door and hand you off to one other person, so you're never stranded at the edge of a room full of strangers, wondering what to do with your hands.
It's a scavenger hunt built from the things everyone shared when they signed up, so you're not making small talk, you're tracking down the person who grew up in Lisbon while someone across the room is quietly tracking down you.
Two short rounds of seated conversation while I keep everyone moving, then team trivia with drinks on the line and photos at the Solos Wall for anyone who wants one.
The games, the bar, and whoever you've been meaning to circle back to. Phones stay in pockets the whole time, because Sunday morning is the reason you won't need them.
It's Solos Intro, a text from me with the roster of everyone who was in the room and the line each person gave me. You text back up to three people you'd want an introduction to, and I take it from there. Romantic introductions only go out when both people asked for each other, and for a new friend or a work connection I check in quietly with the other person first.
Nobody ever finds out who asked about them, and if an introduction doesn't happen you'll never get a reason, because there's nothing to explain. That quiet morning-after handoff is the whole reason Solos works, and it's the part nobody else in the city is doing.
Registration takes approval, and I read every application myself. Your card isn't charged until you're in.
Afternoons are capped at twenty-four people, and the room usually skews late twenties to thirties.
You confirm both when you register, and so does everyone else in the room, so nobody has to wonder about anyone.
The exact address goes out the second you're approved, and never before.
There's nothing to check and no one to text during the games, because Solos Intro carries it all home the next morning.
The Solos Wall is opt-in. If you'd rather not be photographed, just tell me at the door and that's that.
Every afternoon is capped at twelve women and twelve men, sold as two separate tickets, so the balance is built into the room rather than left to chance. You never walk into one that skews hard one way.
Solos is run by a person, not a platform. James built Solos in Atlanta because the city is full of great single people who are tired of meeting each other through a screen. He reads every application, hosts every afternoon, and sends every Sunday text himself.
New afternoons go up as they're confirmed, so follow the calendar and you'll never miss one.
Open the Solos calendarYes. It's the one non-negotiable, and it's the thing that makes the whole room work. Everyone confirms it when they register, so everyone can relax.
Coming alone is the whole design. Everyone in the room got there by themselves, I meet you at the door, and you're introduced to someone before you've even finished deciding where to stand.
No. There are no rotations timed to a bell, no scorecards, and no one sizing anybody up across a table. It's an afternoon of games and good conversation, and anything romantic happens privately, by text, the next day, and only when it's mutual.
No. There's no rotation and no bell. You talk to whoever you're enjoying for as long as it's good, and I keep the room moving just enough that nobody ends up stranded in a corner.
Yes, by design. Every afternoon is capped at twelve women and twelve men, sold as two separate tickets, so the room can't tilt heavily one way. That balance is a big part of why the afternoon works.
Sunday morning I text you the roster, with the line each person gave me. You send back up to three people you'd want an intro to and why. Romantic intros only go out when both people asked for each other, friend and work intros get a quiet check with the other person first, and nobody ever learns who asked.
The ticket covers the afternoon itself, the games, the hosting, and the Sunday introductions. Food and drinks are yours at the bar, so you spend exactly what you feel like spending, and nothing's bundled in that you didn't choose.
The Solos Wall is an opt-in photo moment during the afternoon. If you'd rather stay out of every frame, just tell me at the door and you're out of them.
Send them the calendar and have them register too. Tickets are individual and everyone walks in alone, because a room where nobody has backup is a room where everyone talks to everyone.