A String of Catfish

Dearest Rachel –

You’ve heard from time to time about how I’ve been talking with people online, trying to make connections that could lead to a relationship in my search to find the mythical ‘Megumi,’ the second blessing to take over your role at my side. You’ve heard about the momentary promise I would find in these conversations, only for me to discover that this person often doesn’t live anywhere near here, and I’m stuck dealing with a long-distance relationship that may or may not even be real. And of course, the inevitable day arrives when they ask for money, at which point I’m forced to conclude that this was their plan all along, and that I was wasting my time dealing with them. From there, all I can do is to return the favor, and drop them like a hot potato, meaning that they’ve wasted their time pursuing me as well. Still, it’s time and effort that could have been better spent elsewhere, on both our parts – although I suppose I get a decent story now and again to tell you about.

That being said, you might have noticed that I haven’t had a lot of stories to tell you about along these lines for some time. Part of this, I think, is from having dropped the one dating service for the other; eHarmony may not return a lot of hits (and half the ones that they do turn out to be people who, by the time I respond to the emails from the service, have already been kicked off the site for violating their terms of service, which leaves me wondering why they would even bother notifying me about them in the first place), but they also aren’t a breeding ground for catfish like Christian Mingle. Thus far, they’ve both proven to be rather a waste, but maybe that’s also due to my own demographics and selection criteria; if this is on me, I shouldn’t be blaming them as much for my lack of success.

There’s also the fact that, after so many misfires, I’m aware of the signs, and can recognize a catfish from a much greater distance. I don’t have to get all that involved in a conversation before I realize who (or rather, what) I’m talking to, and just stop bothering to answer. I still hate leaving those little red dots on my apps, but I’m learning how to, as the phrase goes, ‘leave them on read’; I read their last-straw text (in order to eliminate the red dot), and simply neglect to reply. I suppose that’s what ‘ghosting’ is, too, but considering that they’re mirages themselves, how does that really work?

At the same time, there have been a lot fewer of these sort of conversations that I’ve been dealing with lately. You might recall that, while I was on my cruise last year, I picked up a good handful of people I chatted with for some time, before each of the conversations collapsed in turn. This year, while Daniel and I wandered around Japan, there was absolutely none of that. My phone was dead quiet.

I kind of prefer it like this; after all this time, each little ping isn’t so much something to be anticipated – “oh hey, she’s reaching out to me, she’s interested in me!” – as it is another chore to deal with – “aw crap, another one of these things to shut down” – and an interruption of the day I’m having, whether good or bad. Once upon a time, this little glimmer of hope would brighten a day; now, it’s just a burden, even to ignore (since I still would have to deal with that stupid red dot). The fact that the flow had ceased has almost been a relief.

But I don’t know how they know these things – maybe someone’s tracking where my phone is; in which case, should I be grateful for the attention? – because, upon returning, I’ve suddenly been getting random contact requests again. And it’s not just through the dating site – in fact, that’s one place where nothing’s been happening (still) – but all manner of directions. Google Chat, MeWe, even Skype have seen contact traffic out of the blue.

And I don’t mind telling you, I’m suspicious of all of it. When someone contacts you out of the blue, with absolutely no obvious connection, it makes you wonder why. How do they think they know me? Where did they get my name? And why on earth do they think they can get away with calling me ‘dear’ or ‘handsome’ as part of their initial greeting? Do they think I’ll be flattered by that? Don’t they have a clue that it’s a red flag to the recipient?

One of those using these terms of endearment as part of her introduction is a lady who, and I kid you not, shares the same surname as one of my previous would-be relationships. I even went so far as to ask her if she knew the other (sisters, maybe?). She denied it, and considering she claims to be in London (while ‘Aileen’ was allegedly in West Bend, Wisconsin before supposedly transferring to some military base in San Diego), that’s more than reasonable. Not everyone sharing surnames are related, after all. And in fairness to her, the picture she sent of herself and her daughter was plain enough to actually convince me that she might actually be real. But I’ve gone on at length in the past about long distance relationships; it worked for us because we had a bond already, and it was hard enough to maintain even then. It’s not, in my opinion, a means to build a relationship from scratch.

There’s another one out there that claims to have gotten my information on Facebook. Seeing that (unlike you) I never had a Facebook account, and have no intention of getting one, regardless of the additional traffic it might generate (it’s not as if I’m trying to monetize anything I’m doing online), that seems unlikely, and I told her so. Somehow, that has yet to deter her.

And then, there’s the ‘girl’ (I hesitate to call her that, as I suspect there’s a better than 50/50 chance I’m wrong) who contacted me on Skype. I didn’t think to ask her how she got my number, although she mentioned being interested in me due to my profile picture (which on Skype is a character from an anime, rather than a picture of myself), claiming to be interested in anime herself. If she was more local, I might pursue this line of conversation, but as she claimed to be from Washington state, this seemed as fruitless as the London gal with the daughter. But then, ‘she’ sent me ‘her’ picture…

You might notice the website above that picture. Thanks to my previous experiences (and some information received from Logan), I went to look up ‘her’ picture, and discovered something quite interesting: it was listed as number seven on the top catfishing photos for the month of February 2022.

Of course, she claimed to have had her data stolen early last year when I confronted her with this. Uh-huh. Not that I believe her excuse for a moment, but even giving her the benefit of the doubt doesn’t make her look very good or smart. Do I want a relationship with somebody who’s so careless with their technology?

So, as you might guess, these sort of interactions don’t go very well, nor do they get very far. It means that I don’t have that much in the way of stories to tell you, other than the usual cautionary tales, and that I don’t fall for anything. Perhaps you might be proud of me for that. On the other hand, if I spend all my time, assuming that everybody is nothing but a trap, I may find myself passing out the real deal someday, assuming that she’s just another phony.

With that in mind, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.