Pitch-A-Friend: find a partner with PowerPoint in a pub in Barcelona

To find a partner, you first have to choose a sticker. Blue if you come single. Orange if you already have someone. At the Michael Collins in Barcelona, ​​an Irish pub a stone's throw from the Sagrada Família, a girl wears both. Open relationship? “No,” she answers seriously. “Situationship”. It is seven in the afternoon and about thirty people begin to occupy a reserved room in the premises after paying five euros for entry. It is spoken mainly in English, although Spanish is also heard. Some chat around the bar; others wait in front of a screen. In a few minutes, eight of them will take the stage to introduce a friend to an audience of strangers looking for a possible date.

Natasha, one of the organizers of the event, grabs the microphone and immediately takes over the room. "We're here to be friendly, have a good time, include everyone, and meet new people. So be respectful, be positive, and above all, be thirsty." The first slide appears on the screen: "Meet Natalie. The investment opportunity of 2026." Her friend introduces her as if she were defending a startup to a group of investors. Talk about your strengths, the investment risks and the guaranteed returns of a first date. Five minutes later, another friend projects a photo taken in his roommate's bathroom to demonstrate how much space he takes up in front of the mirror. No one seems worried about the inevitable cringe effect, sorry.

The format was called Pitch-A-Friend. It was born in Philadelphia and today it is celebrated in dozens of cities around the world. Barcelona has had its own chapter for a few months now. The idea is simple: let friends do the work that dating apps did for years. Bachelor auctions are not new and are reminiscent of an old standby from American romantic comedies; The difference is that there are no bids here. There is PowerPoint. It is the only essential element of the format, in fact. Of course, those who once again opt for such an analog formula are young people who grew up with Tinder in their pockets.

MBAs abound. Almost everyone travels, plays sports, speaks several languages ​​and enjoys discovering new restaurants. The presentations are full of super funny, super social, super adventurous, super caring. The same thing happens in Spanish, also a victim of “superism.” What happened to the very and the superlatives? In the end. They say that Gabby always ends up talking to someone who's left alone at a party. Sebas's friend assures that he never fails when necessary and that he remembers everything. About Aurora they say that a week beforehand they already have the plan organized. The presentations describe the candidates as they are seen by those who know them best. At the end of each pitch a QR code appears with contact information. The room applauds, but at first glance it doesn't seem like anyone is taking a photo or taking notes. They will be informed more discreetly.

Jorge is a regular. It has been presented several times. When the photo of her cat Igor appears on the PowerPoint of the friend who is trying to sell it, the room erupts in unanimous feline approval. It can be a winning trick. According to him, “applications are designed for unhappiness.” On the other hand, here the recommendation comes from someone who really knows the person presented. And that reassures. “Here you can see that the person has real friends,” he says.

The figure of the friend as intermediary has not reappeared only in bars. In 2023, Tinder launched Matchmaker, a feature that allows acquaintances and family members to recommend potential dates, coinciding with a time of increasing wear and tear on traditional applications. The accumulation of profiles, conversations that die out before reaching a date and the feeling that someone better can always appear with a new swipe have caused the already much feared dating burnout.

Be that as it may, the applications are still there, but they coexist with the need to humanize algorithmic life. Researcher Liesel Sharabi, director of the Relationships and Technology Lab at Arizona State University, maintains that they work better when they are no longer the only way to relate. Among his recommendations to avoid this exhaustion is diversifying the contexts: joining a running club or asking a friend to introduce you to someone.

Sabrina, Ecuadorian and living in Barcelona for eleven years, works in a publishing house managing rights and digital projects. She discovered Pitch-A-Friend on Instagram and told a friend that she would like to attend one day. The answer was: “And why don't you organize it?” Shortly after, he contacted Natasha, a Russian and recent MBA graduate from IESE. Together they opened the Barcelona version of the format. In a few months they have organized several editions, in which English or Spanish predominate depending on the usual audience of the venue that hosts them. The most difficult thing, they say, is not finding candidates, but friends willing to prepare a PowerPoint for them.

The organizers meticulously collect data and statistics to analyze the evolution of the calls: how many people participate, who takes the stage and what profiles are presented. In the first meetings, to the surprise of both, men clearly predominated; In the first, in fact, only two women showed up. Afterwards the proportion began to balance. In the United States, they point out, the opposite tends to happen. “We have graphics!” they say. "But Pitch-A-Friend is not just PowerPoint. There are games, surprises, and a lot of people who end up talking to people they probably would never have met," explains Sabrina.

During the evening Natasha hands out small red and green flags and begins to read possible characteristics of a couple. “He doesn't like animals.” Several red flags are raised immediately. “He is a workaholic.” “He wants to meet your parents after a month.” “He doesn't cook.” “He asks you about politics on the first date.” When the games are over, potential couples continue to be assessed in the crowd. “Look, that's a good match too,” one girl says to another, pointing discreetly toward the bar. Among the candidates there is one that arouses pragmatic interest in the room: a lawyer specialized in immigration.

Miguel is Mexican. Elegant, with the deep voice of a diplomat, the photos of his best tacos have aroused considerable enthusiasm. He uses dating apps, but he also comes here. It says that one thing does not replace the other. Applications are used to meet people; this, to have a good night even if nothing else happens. After almost three hours, the event is about to end and I meet Jorge again. Has there been any luck? I ask him. "They usually write a couple of days later. They need to work up the courage." To find a partner, you first have to have a friend.