A while back, I saw an intriguing packet on the counter of Oyster called ‘Passion Notes’. They were sealed, and Stevie, the owner, wasn’t sure what was inside. Since we were both keen to find out, we opened one. We found elegant little pieces of paper, with messages like ‘I’d like to kiss you right now’. The idea: to drop them in the pocket of your object of desire, to be discovered unexpectedly. Like the cutesy messages moms put in children’s packed lunches like ‘I love you sweetie’. Only dirtier and more delicious. But it made me wonder how often people send love notes these days. Then, walking home along the river path, I overheard two blokes talking. One of them said, unhappily: ‘I’ve deleted her number from my phone. And all her texts.’ ‘Quite right, mate’ said the other. Sounded like someone had been dumped. Did the relationship end by text? I’ve never dated in the modern world of e-mails and texts. There wasn’t even a phone in my student house. How did we engage in lascivious behaviour without the aid of technology? Beer, as I recall. Banging on doors at 3am. But keen to learn new skills, I asked a non-monogamous friend, who largely manages her relationships by mobile, to explain the etiquette. She offered me a practical lesson in text flirting. ‘What r u wearing?’ came the message. ‘Gum boots n a mac’ I replied, truthfully. ‘NO idiot. I can’t c u. Make it up.’ Couldn’t do it. Felt silly. Prefer a note. And ripping or burning them in fury is far more satisfying than deleting.