Facebook wall post: I don’t really have anything to say to you, but I desperately want everyone to see me having something to say to you.
Facebook message: I want to connect with you personally, but I don’t have your number or anything, so I’m hoping you see this on your phone, ideally when drunk and susceptible to indiscretion.
Tweet: I thought of a snappy wisecrack to direct at you for the amusement of our mutual followers. If you’re offended by that, I don’t care.
Twitter direct message: I enjoy sending tiny secret messages. I don’t really need to communicate anything—I just want to play spies.
Tumblr ask box: I’m an attention whore, and I’m hoping you’ll pimp me out with a public response. If you respond privately, I’ll be sorely disappointed.
Foursquare check-in comment: I’m either stalking you or bored out of my skull waiting in line at the bank.
Text message: I want to have sex with you. Yes, even if you think “we’re broken up” or “we’re just friends” or “I’m not of the correct sexual orientation to be into you” or “we’re related.”
U.S. Mail: I’m twee.
Singing telegram: It’s your birthday, and before your next birthday we’re either going to be broken up (if we’re currently dating and I’m running out of ideas) or dating (if we’re not dating but I’m flirting with you via singing telegram).
In person: I’m only here with you in person because we’re (a) dating, (b) working together, (c) drinking, or (d) all of the above.
Phone call: You’re my mom.
E-mail: I hate you.