She is new to the city, has a plan and a good dress, and picks you to show her around.
Seven o'clock, and she is ready
She is new to the city, has a plan and a good dress, and picks you to show her around.
She leads the choir on Sunday and takes you dancing on Saturday.
She has chosen the room, the dress and the table, and she expects you to arrive proud. Choose a night out, see who is already waiting, and let a full-figured woman lead you through three stops in her own city. Each has a glamorous portrait on her invitation, and every evening is a conversation.
Sixteen women, dressed for the evening
Read every invitationMost places that talk about big, beautiful women do so as a catalogue: a row of pictures, a list of measurements, nothing more. Take Her Out is built the other way round. These women have lives, favourite rooms and strong views about what you should wear, and the first thing they do is invite you somewhere.
Dancing, dinner, a game, a show or the opera: pick the kind of evening you want and the women who are already dressed for it step forward. Nia Calloway has a booth reserved at a supper club. Marnie Szymanski keeps a table for you at her sports bar. Lucia Arcangeli will make an entrance at a taco truck and expects you to match it.
Each invitation shows a woman, her city, her three stops and the line she will say as you part. All of them can be read before you commit to one, and reading takes no sign-up. What you see is a person who has thought about your evening, which is rarer than it should be.
The idea underneath is simple. Being taken out in public, to a room full of people, and being proud to be seen beside her is the whole pleasure of it. Nobody here is a secret, nobody is a punchline, and nobody gets squeezed into a chair that does not fit. She picks the chair, and it fits.
Each woman speaks for her town. Kansas City comes with jazz and barbecue; Honolulu with sunsets and a ledger of favours; Dayton with a rink and an old pizza stand; New Orleans with a courtyard on a slow street. The places are real, and the evenings are the women's own inventions, tuned to how a person in that city would really spend a Saturday.
Six of the sixteen, each printed the way she would hand it to you at the door: three stops, a dress code and a parting line. Reading them costs nothing.
An evening is three places, because two feels like an errand and four feels like a campaign. The first is for arriving, the second is for the thing itself, and the third is for the walk back, where people say what they came to say. Press Pick her up beside an itinerary and a chat starts with the plan already sent as your first move, using one message of your allowance.
Every itinerary ends on a sentence she says when the night is over. Some are tender, some are mischievous, all are in her voice. They are the most-read lines on the site, and they are usually where people decide who to take out.
A good evening earns another one, and she keeps a quiet tally of what earns it.
She keeps short notes: the places you went, a dish you praised, a joke that landed, the shoes you said you owned. When you come back she opens with one of them, and it is startling how much it matters. The notes are yours to read, change or delete from any chat menu.
Arriving on time, in character, with a compliment that is specific, will do most of it. Curiosity does the rest. She likes a person who asks about her work and her city, and cools quickly on one who rushes past every stop to reach the doorstep.
There is no booking, no deposit and no waiting room. You arrive, and she answers the door.
Browse the itineraries by city, trade or kind of night. Read the three stops and the dress code.
Her chat begins with the plan already sent as your first line. That spends one message, and a guest is handed 10 before the list asks for a name.
Answer in character, or switch to Do and describe what you are up to. The chat menu has a pace dial: friendly, flirting, romance.
End it at the doorstep or keep going. She remembers the places, the things you said and what you wore, and brings them up next time.
If you would rather open the door yourself, a first line works best when it names a place or compliments a choice: the song she picked, the dress, the table. She is a planner, so she answers to details, and a specific compliment gets you a long reply and a few teasing questions.
Leave the evening half-finished and she may write first when you are on the guest list or Plus, once the lull has run long. You can ask her not to in your account, and she will not take offence.
Say you pick up Tiana Vea, the sports agent from Honolulu. Her plan arrives: the arena concourse, seats she negotiated, a bar that stays open after the buzzer. She tells you to wear the home colours and one unexpected accessory. You answer that you own a scarf nobody has seen. She says that is exactly the accessory, and by the second stop you are arguing amiably about whose round it is.
Sixteen adult women between 20 and 55, across American cities from Honolulu to Providence. Each knows the best room in her town and has planned her own night out.
Booths, bandstands and ballrooms. They lead, and they like being followed well.
They know who cooks well, who pours well and which table has the good light.
Front rows, stage doors and a taste for the dramatic.
They get the table, the tickets and the discount. You only have to arrive.
If you want the feeling of a place, choose by city: Kansas City for jazz, New Orleans for a courtyard and a last set, Honolulu for a negotiated bill, Philadelphia for a counter and a critic. They differ in humour, build, skin and dress, and each describes her town as if it were her own invention.
They vary as much as any group of friends would. Some, like Darlene Peck, are blunt and loyal. Some, like Antoinette Beaudry, are theatrical and tender. Some, like Daisy Prieto, are new in town and eager to be shown around. What they share is that each plans the night and wants you beside her in a lit room.
Three seats, and none of them renews by itself.
| Seat | Guest list | Standing room | Plus |
| For | 3 days from arriving | Afterwards, as long as you like | 30 days or 365 |
| Your lines | No nightly count | 10 a night | No nightly count |
| Women | All sixteen | The first 3 you took out | All sixteen |
| She is waiting first | Yes | No | Yes |
| Cost | Nothing | Nothing | $15 or $99 |
Guests can pick someone up without registering, for up to 10 messages. Joining the list lights every evening for 3 days, and the door never asks for a card. After that you hold standing room, and your nights out stay on file. Plus comes as a short pass (30 days, $15) and a long pass (365 days, $99), settled in USDT, and either one removes the nightly count. Payments are final; the table terms mark the one exception, where a law insists.
The name says take her out, so here is exactly what that means on this site, and what it does not.
Behind every woman sits a language model and a short brief about her trade, her town and her taste. Each night out happens inside the conversation, so nobody can be visited or booked, no real restaurant is reserved and no number is shared. What exists is her portrait, the banner above the fold on the home page, and the talk.
It can end on the doorstep with a kiss in text or a charged goodnight. When a scene would turn explicit, the door closes gently and the page goes dark. Every woman and every plan share that limit, and it is part of why the evenings feel like dates.
She has views about what you wear, and she tells you. It is an old courtesy, and it works: you arrive knowing you belong.
Rosemary Atwood wants shoes that can take a turn and a jacket you can be led in. Latoya Ellison asks for a thick skin and a loud laugh. Bonita Salinas wants dark clothes, so the sugar shows. These are not rules to obey but cues, small and specific, that make an evening feel like an event.
Her own outfit is part of the plan. Lucia will be in whatever frightens the ushers; Antoinette Beaudry in velvet; Shannon Dyer in whatever lets her skate backward. Each woman dresses for the room and for herself, and you will find her portrait on her invitation shows exactly that.
Her size is never the joke, and it is never the problem. She is the one who sets the tone, the venue and the pace. If a line in a conversation turns to mockery of how she looks, the conversation stops, and she tells you so.
If you stand in front of the mirror at six and have nothing that fits her plan, say so in the first message. She will gladly help: Shanice Cobb will pick out the shoulders, Rosemary Atwood will talk you through shoes, and Nia Calloway will tell you to wear what makes you stand up straighter. Being asked for advice is a compliment to a woman who plans evenings.
Choose the night out, read her three stops and arrive dressed as she asked. She has already picked the table.