Plans pile up in TikTok and Instagram favourites, then quietly die there.
Real places and events around you, dealt like a deck of cards. Other apps hand you a list of ideas and leave you to it. Pomia picks the one that fits the two of you tonight, gives it a date, and keeps it as a memory on your map once you have lived it.
Works entirely on your own too.
Nobody argues. Nothing breaks. Things just get lost, one by one.
Plans pile up in TikTok and Instagram favourites, then quietly die there.
It loses the day, the place, and what the two of you thought of it. Nobody ever opens it again.
No crisis. Just evenings where the day gives you nothing to tell, until it becomes a habit.
Pomia is where the two of you decide what to do, plan it, live it, and keep it. Four moments that usually live in four different apps, and mostly nowhere at all.
Every other app hands you a list of date ideas and leaves you to it. Pomia deals you real places and events around you, one card at a time, and chooses which ones to show: restaurants, exhibitions, walks, concerts, flea markets. Swipe right to like, left to pass, up to plan it. The deck learns what the two of you love, and a card you pass never comes back.
Measured on 120 simulated couples over a month, against 44% for cards drawn at random. We built the deck to be good at choosing, then checked that it was.
→ The ramen by the canal: 1.2 km away, and it expires on Sunday.
Swipe up and the outing lands in your plans with its address, its distance and a deadline, on both phones at once. No “we should do that again” left hanging: it is in the calendar, and the next one shows on your Home screen. You can also paste a TikTok or Instagram link, and the app turns the video into plans with their places already found.
A photo, a word from each of you, a rating out of five hearts. The plan you did turns into a memory in the same spot, and lands on the map at its exact place. The map becomes the album: your city fills up with the evenings you actually had, and you find them again by place rather than by scrolling.
A camera roll keeps the picture and loses the evening. Once you have a few memories, Relive deals you a small deck of your own, about twelve cards a day, chosen among the oldest and the best rated. You swipe them like the first time, you open one to read what the two of you wrote that night, and tomorrow the deck is different.
None of this is the point of the app. All of it is there so the days in between are not empty.
One of you asks, the other guesses. A flame counts the days you both kept it up, a sentence waits for your other half under the logo, and five sliders say how your day went. On your own, the question flips into “Would you rather…”.
Go on, try an answer.
“What is my guilty pleasure?”
Two characters that look like you, drawn in a minute. They stroll along the bottom of your Home screen, and they live in a garden with a house and mini games.
You each slip a long text and three photos into the garden. Nobody reads anything before the day, not even their own half.
A target, a rhythm, a counter that goes all the way, and a trophy at the end. Plus a notebook of nine answers, for the day you have no idea what to give them.
Six corners of the app, sketched from life.
“Thank you for Sunday.”
right I like it · left I pass · up we go
“What’s my guilty pleasure?”
“To open on our third year”
This is not a stripped down trial. On your own you swipe the deck and your plans get their date, your memories land on your map, the garden is yours, and the question of the day flips into “Would you rather…”.
The model is simple: you pay for the app, nobody pays for your data.
Your photos and your words stay on European servers, under GDPR.
No ads, nobody buying your data, not now and not later. We only count how the app is used, never what you put in it.
Deleting the account wipes the shared life for both of you and gives you back your private one. No questions.
The facts, for anyone who wants them without the story.
Pomia is coming soon to both your phones.
Until then, the little walk goes on. Tap them, they will say hello.