There is always a large question mark in my head when the message pops up saying: “Can I PM you?” On the surface it seems harmless, the sort of thing I used to agree to without a second thought 4 years ago. It looks practical, like someone stepping away from a busy dinner table to speak more privately by the fireplace. But in reality those four words carry far more weight than they appear to.
The twenty five year old from this morning is a perfect example. He asked if he could PM and I did what any sensible person would do; I asked what he wanted to talk about. His reply was that he was “personal about things.” Now, that is a curious phrase. Was he confessing to being shy, a man who prefers meaningful one to one conversations rather than the noise of a group? Naturally, I pushed gently and asked what in particular. That was when he accused me of being snarky. Which, in translation, suggests he had been hoping for something a little racier and I had caught him out by asking him to spell it out. He wanted adult chat and I am not online for that kind of entertainment…
This is the psychology of PMs. They are test balloons. When someone asks if they can message privately they are really checking to see if you are willing to move into a different kind of space with them. Once you agree, the rules shift. In a group you are moderated by the eyes of others. Behaviour is shaped by social norms and the fear of overstepping in public. In a private message those barriers dissolve. Intimacy arrives by default. It is the digital equivalent of leaning in close enough to whisper.
Sometimes that intimacy is used for confessions. Sometimes it is used for flirtation. And sometimes it is genuinely because someone does not want to bore the group with match statistics.
When someone asked if he could PM me in the rugby group back in February 2023, I thought it was simply to spare the group chat from our conversations which were often late at night when he came back from work. Very considerate, very civic minded. I pictured him saving everyone else from their mobile constantly pinging. I still tease him about that moment, how I truly believed it was about rugby, and how glad I am that I was naïve enough to think so…
The fascinating thing is how quickly personalities reveal themselves once the PM curtain is drawn. Some, like the twenty five year old apparently wanted to do, rush straight into suggestion, innuendo and initiate below the belt pics. Others keep it understated but with a spark running quietly beneath the surface. And then there are those rare souls who really do just want to talk about rugby, or their dog, or the price of petrol.
The psychology is clear. A PM is never just a message. It is an invitation, a signal, a little door waiting to be opened. Sometimes what lies behind it is administrative, sometimes it is awkward, and sometimes it is the beginning of a conversation that can change the course of things entirely.
And here is where the fun lies. Being naïve is no bad thing. You can take people at face value, let them show their hand, and laugh at your own innocence later. Those two little letters, PM, may be small, but they have the power to shift the whole tone of a conversation and connection.
Because every time someone asks if they can PM you, you get to decide whether it turns into rugby chat, a clumsy attempt at flirtation, or something much more compelling. And very often, the most delightful part is not knowing which it will be until you are still smiling two and a half years later.
