You can talk about the weather, you can talk about your day, you can talk about your pets, you can talk about some great food you had, you can talk about him and how great he is (always a showstopper), you can ask him about his day and his pets and his food, you can talk about what you read in the newspaper, what you saw on television, what you learned from the internet, an interesting recipe you'd like to make for him that you know he'd like, about the art exhibit you saw or the library you went to or what Mr. Cameron said or what Mr. Miliband said or what Mr. Blair said or Ken Livingstone or Boris Johnson or Scotland possibly going off on its own or what's happening in Northern Ireland, or whether your boyfriend is in favor of "fracking" and gas extraction, or what he wants to do with his life, or his mother or father or brothers or sisters or what he ate for dinner last night or whether it's raining where he is or what band he likes best now or what he saw on TV last night, or whether he's feeling good or bad or whether he likes Indian food or whether his dog likes Indian food or cheese or halibut. Things like that, I could rattle on forever but you only run out of things to say when you're dead, kaput, gone, finished, out of life. Really. It's not that you have nothing to say. You ALWAYS have something to say. You're just embarassed and tongue-tied and there's no reason at all to be that way. Your guy likes to hear from you and hear your voice. Just yatter. That's all. It's easy. He'll still love you.