I want to know what you’re doing, but I also want you to know that I don’t care.”

“I’d be happy to hang out with you, but only if what you’re doing is the best option out of the 18 ‘WYD’ texts I’ve sent in the past five minutes.”

“I am stoned and physically unable to type out full words right now. Honestly, it’s for the best because if I sent you complete sentences, then I fear it would make me too vulnerable, like, ‘I feel lonely and am thinking of my own mortality. I am thinking about climate change sinking our cities into the ocean, wondering if I’ll ever make enough money to buy a boat. I am thinking about how Marianne Williamson was the only Democratic candidate who stood a real chance against beating Donald Trump in a presidential election. I am thinking about how Quentin Tarantino still makes movies. 2019 has made me a nihilist. Let’s hang out, I guess.’”

“Wrong number.”

“I’m in the middle of having sex with my long-term partner. He keeps checking Twitter during our love-making, so I’m texting you about what you’re doing to prove a point. Let’s make plans! This is my way of keeping in touch for when I ultimately need friends post break-up.”

“It’s 4:26PM on a Saturday and I just woke up.”

“I’m at a work meeting and it’s just been announced my co-worker, who once told me I’m not a feminist, is getting a promotion. People are clapping, she is staring at me and I’m locking eyes while defiantly texting, asking you what you’re doing as an act of resistance.”

“I don’t want to come off as needy so I’ve been sitting on this text for precisely 72 hours since our last hang.”

“I’m playing it cool because I don’t want you to find out that I stalk you and want to know what you’re doing every single second of the day. For five months I’ve been living off the high of being invited to your birthday brunch. I’ve rewatched your every Instagram story upwards of 60 times. I’ve memorized your Venmo transactions to know what you’re up to and who you’re hanging out with. I smoke cigarettes just to have one-on-one time with you at parties even though I have debilitating asthma. I want to live in your hair. But, like, in a chill way. One day, we’ll go to Dry Bar together.”

“I’m on the toilet and thinking of you <3”

“You better sit down because I’m about to tell you I caught your wife making out with my kid’s birthday party magician.”

“I’m working remotely and have procrasterbated eight times today. Please, I can’t be alone anymore. I will burn off my clitoris.”

“A white man in a dashiki is hitting on me in the bulk pantry section of my health food store. He’s complimenting my choice of Brazil nuts, to which I replied, ‘Yeah, they’re great for IBS. Texting my husband now to see if he still wants those pine nuts. So expensive!’”

“I agreed to go to a coworker’s baby shower, but I don’t know anyone and am trying to look busy. It is important that these strangers know I have many friends and am well-liked.”

“I’m a Sagittarius.”

“My dog Pepperoni just died. This morning, I punched a whole in the wall of my coffee shop when they told me they ran out of 2% milk. I have been crying in the stairwell of my finance job for hours and when I returned to my desk, a co-worker mentioned my eyes were bloodshot. I told him I got sauced with client at lunch. We high fived and I continued to secretly stare at a photo of Pepperoni eating a slice of swiss cheese for the remainder of the work day. Pepperoni loved cheese. Anyways, I’d like to get a beer with you tonight, mention her death in passing once, and then pretend it never happened.”

“Brace yourself: the following text will be a dick pic.”

“I drafted 48 versions of how to ask you out on a date and this is what I came up with.”