LONG LIVE THE PARTY.
Passed peacefully at the courthouse after a long, complicated, occasionally lovely run. It is survived by the guest of honor pictured here — who is, by every available account, thriving. In lieu of flowers, bring your best outfit and worst dance moves.
— The Committee, acting entirely in the spirit of a fresh start
◈ 721 Coronado Blvd, Sacramento
Pool + BBQ · bring a swimsuit & your own towel
The relationship has been laid to rest. The party has been raised from the dead. What we are doing here is not mourning — it's a ribbon-cutting. One book closes, a far better one opens, and the man of the hour gets to be the main character again.
There will be no sad songs. No dwelling. No stories that start with "remember when." We are here for one reason and one reason only: to celebrate the ending, loudly, in our best clothes, on a dance floor.
Come as you are. Leave as someone's plus-one. That's the whole eulogy.
SINGLE
LOOKS GOOD.
— the room, in unison, upon his arrival
A funeral, technically. A party, obviously. All times are approximate; the vibe is not.
Eight clauses. Non-negotiable. Signed in glitter, notarized by the group chat.
Wear black, wear white, wear your most fashion-forward self. Funeral chic. Come dressed as the version of him he's about to become.
The registry is closed. Bring yourself, bring energy, bring a story that isn't about the past. That's the whole ask.
This is a celebration, not a trial. No names, no "crazy," no blame. The joke is the ending — never a person. We punch up. Always.
The guest list is the eulogy. Sign the book below. Ghosts who show up unannounced will be welcomed anyway — but do the man a solid.
Single looks good. So does company. Dealer's choice. Meet-cutes are not just permitted, they are gently encouraged.
Mission accomplished means we dance. No wallflowers at a resurrection. You came to send off a chapter — do it with your whole body.
There's a pool. Bring a swimsuit and your own towel — this is a backyard, not a resort. No towel, no sympathy, no exceptions. That clause is ironclad.
The grill runs all afternoon and every dietary need is handled — gluten-free, vegan, carnivore. Come starving. Leaving a wake hungry is the only real tragedy.
Officially retired and lying in state for the duration of the service. It served with distinction. It is tired. It is off the clock. It requests no photographs, no touching, and absolutely no reminiscing. Pour one out — then move on. Everyone else already has.
Real reactions from real guests. Not one of them is sad.
"Sending love, thoughts, and my number to anyone else who's single now. Gorgeous service. Not a dry eye — and not a sad one either."
"Never seen a man look this good at his own funeral. Ten out of ten. Would mourn again. Immediately."
"The catering alone was worth the whole ordeal. Editorial. Iconic. Free of charge. I said what I said."
"We came to grieve. We stayed to dance. We left with new numbers. This is how it should always be done."
"A high-fashion goodbye to a chapter that had run its course. Nightclub meets memorial. Nobody does closure like this."
"I have attended weddings less joyful than this funeral. Genuinely one of the best nights of my year."
Head count, plus-ones, and dietary needs are all handled on Partiful — two taps and you're on the list. No gifts. Bring a swimsuit and your own towel.
Opens Partiful in a new tab · Saturday, August 8 · 1:00 PM · 721 Coronado Blvd, Sacramento