I cannot believe this is your shirt. Awesome.
First, notes passed in class. Some of these were hilarious, but I’m not going to wax on, in extensive detail, here. There were other forms of written fun: I hand-made you valentines for Valentine Eve @ French Laundry, before it was so, so expensive. (And the rest of the party, just so everybody had a valentine, because I knew you’d like that.)
Second, email. Oh, email. What fun we had. Sometimes I’d want you to go away, just so we could have our fun with email. Sweetest when you were absent, but we’d do it later, even if we were in the same room.
Maybe third, texting. The only reason we got cell phones. Admit it: it was fun. Your only request was an number that ended in zero, and then I got your number plus five. When we told people our numbers this way it sounded strange.
Then social came along and I made up names for Facebook and eventually settled on a strange alias for an imaginary dog that pretended to post about Nick and Nora and all the while, it was you. And me. And you tried Twitter. You won that one, admittedly, and soon emailing links was passée and voilà, I got a twitter account, just to flirt with you.
And now, tumblr.
You cannot escape me. I channel Yves Klein: In the void, full powers.