Dear family, friends, new folk, and old. I’m happy to see you. Now, for this week’s update…
I was led on a four-day catfishing expedition by a French man named “Daniel. ” It was an elaborate scheme to get me to give him money, presumably, but we didn’t get that far.
For those who are not lucky enough to know the term intimately, as I do, catfishing is an online scam. In this case, an online dating scam). A strappingly handsome man or woman creates a fake profile, using fake pictures and information to lure the unsuspecting into their net. Once caught, the catfisher tries to get money, photos, and other incriminating information from the innocent (in this case, me).
Let’s get this out of the way right now. I did NOT send “Daniel” anything incriminating. No pictures, facts, or even my last name. But, he almost got me to take a crypto trading lesson from them. Luckily, I was just too tired and too skeptical to partake.
Skeptical at some points, yes. But generally fooled. He got me. I don’t want to admit that, but he had me. He was in no rush. In it for the long game. He went slow and steady, buttering me up like a hot potato.
In hindsight, ALL the signs were there. Yes, I questioned why he wanted me to download an encrypted chat app for no good reason. Yes, I said no. Again, I said no when he asked me the next night for a different reason. But between these now-rediculous requests were many, many not-rediculous statements.
Our relationship lasted four days. We had a plan to meet in late September because both of us were traveling. He had an epic story. Scripted like a movie. Married for twelve years but divorced because of his wife’s affair. I’m making it sound so simple. He ensured it was laden with feelings. Parisian. Moved to the United States five years ago for work. A hopeless romantic—of course. Good English, but broken. Shit, he’s French!
He sent me photos of the things he was doing and frequently asked how and what I was doing. He was present and kind. Took his time. If I noticed a touch of haste or the slightest bit of “something,” he was back to charming me moments later.
The dummy finally blew his cover by texting me from a new number with a poor, rusty reason. I smelled fish.
My mouth agape, my insides chuckling and crying, I played back the last few days. While I tried to make sense of it, I fired off a text to a friend to say, “I think I’m being catfished,” as he continued texting from a number he spontaneously changed to for “work reasons.”
It’s a lie.
“Daniel” doesn’t care if I have a good morning. In fact, he’s working toward the opposite.
As you’d expect, the moral of this story is to trust your gut. Except, sometimes, your gut doesn’t scream at you even when a scammer takes you for a ride. It hiccups and gurgles, but it’s not until the final straw breaks the camel’s back that it all clicks into high-definition, and your body vomits the truth: I’m being scammed.
It’s a vulnerable place to be—being catfished—and then admitting it to hundreds of people, as I’m doing now. If you’ve had your car broken into or your home vandalized. It’s invasive. Violating. Very, very surreal, even if they only made off with your gym bag or other “harmless” items.
For those who would like to avoid being catfished (and I recommend you do), there are signs to look for:
Knowing it’s a “thing” is an excellent step. I did not. I had heard the word, recalled a movie by its name, but hadn’t given catfishing any thought. The last time I dated online, four-ish years ago, nothing like this happened. In 2022, it’s trending.
“It only takes once. You’ll never let it happen again.” A catfished friend told me. She’s correct. Now that I know what to look for, this situation was laughably obvious.
Two weeks ago, in Issue 43, I bragged about my superpower, “seeing people.” I claimed I got people. Had some degree of clarity about them within moments of meeting them. Four issues later, the tide has turned. It’s all terribly ironic. And terrible. And ironic.
Still, if this happened to me, it could happen to anyone. Yes, the signs were ALL there, and I feel dumb, but now I know, and so do you. Tell the masses. And, stay tuned for more online dating stories in the coming months. I’m off to a very strong start. 🛑
Thank you for being a reader. There’s no prescription this week. Take a load off. Until next week…
(Oops, a prescription after all.)
Love the hard truth.
Makes me feel for the soul who dedicates so much time and energy to lies.
THANK you for sharing
Keep up the good stuff 💜
D'oh, thank you for sharing your story! <3 Anyone could have fallen for those biceps.