I Can Smell the Barbeque

Dearest Rachel –

“We need to talk.”

Those four words (and their variations) have chilled the blood of boyfriends and husbands throughout the world for generations. We always somehow knew the that the topic of conversation was going to be an unpleasant one, and we were likely to be receiving blame for the situation itself and that it had come to such a head. It might be the nostalgia filter – especially the one due to the dead, where no one speaks ill of you – but I can’t recall such a chilling moment between us. We did, after all, keep the lines of communication open between us on a daily basis (and, being something of a ‘guy’ yourself, weren’t any more keen on confrontation than I am), so this may not have been as much of an issue to begin with.

To be fair to “Dara,” she hasn’t uttered those four specific words thus far (well, technically, she hasn’t ‘uttered’ any words at all; it’s all been via text), and what she’s had to say to me has been more along the lines of “you [meaning I] need to talk.” Yesterday afternoon, and again later last evening, she pointed out that she was the one initiating all of our conversations, and wanted me to reach out to her once in a while. Which is quite true; as I think I mentioned, I clicked “like” on her profile by accident, not by design. And while I don’t have it in me to tell her outright to go away, I’d rather not start anything with her. I’ll speak when spoken to, but no more than that. Besides, hardly a day goes by when she reaches out to me, sending me pictures of her office, her work friends, her yoga routine and whatnot. I couldn’t beat her response time even if I wanted to.

Of course, I can’t bring myself to say all this directly to her. However, after yesterday’s conversation (along with the yoga shot early in the evening), I decided to send a text to her after two hours had passed. She said she would be leaving her office after her workout, and wanted “to talk” once she got home; while traffic in the city proper can be something else, two hours to get from downtown to anywhere else seemed a little extreme. So I reached out to her; hey, it was what she claimed she wanted from me, at any rate.

She claims that she wants to establish more of a connection between the two of us by having each of us open up to the other, which would be a reasonable expectation. The problem with that is that I’ve been through all this before – many times. I can’t tell if you’re sick of hearing about it, or if you’re amused by the encounters I’ve related to you (I mean, if you’re anything like the guys at the Bible study each Saturday morning when we get into our accountability groups, I’d expect the latter, but they don’t get half the details you do). So much of what she says reminds me of one or another of my previous engagements with this or that catfish.

But hey, she insists that she wants to hear from me, for me to open up and tell her about the psychic damage and trauma I’ve suffered, on a par with what she claimed to endure from her previous husband. And while I make it clear to her that I’ve dealt with nothing like that from my experience with you (on the contrary; it’s having enjoyed such a time with you that makes me want to seek out a similar relationship for the rest of my life. Had I dealt with a nasty, shrewish – or heaven forbid, abusive – wife, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be looking to endure a second round of that, which makes the fact that Dara’s even out here kind of strange), I also acknowledge that I’ve turned into damaged goods over the past few years…

…and I go into details, just like she claimed to want from me. I tell her about the girl who claimed to be with Doctors Without Borders (much like “Dara” in Kenya with UNICEF), only to supposedly get stuck in Cambodia with no way home unless she paid off some locals first. I tell her about the girl so intent on pressing me into her crypto scheme that she suggested I let my son die after I refused her offer to do so one too many times. I tell her about the girl who asked me for money (although, don’t they all?) to which I agreed to meet her at what she claimed to be “her” church, only to find that the small congregation knew nothing about her. At which point, I explain that these and incidents like them are why I will not – cannot, even – get emotionally invested (and yes, I chose that word deliberately) in someone without meeting them in person first.

Now I should mention that she had suggested meeting downtown later this month when we talked yesterday afternoon; however, after getting this info dump from me, she responded like this:

I’m beginning to suspect our meeting for coffee outside the Prudential Building in a couple of weeks isn’t going to happen, since she’s gotten bored with me.

***

The funny part of all this is that, when I was dealing with another person trying to contact me (and leaving their phone number, including an unfamiliar area code that I decided to look up), I discovered what it was that I seemed to be taking part in – however unwillingly, as the ‘mark.’ It’s apparently referred to as 杀猪盘 (sha zhu pan), or the “pig butchering game,” with me playing the part of the “pig” being fattened for slaughter. The scammer attempts to build trust with the victim through online communication (often dating apps or social media), with the ultimate goal of persuading them to invest in a fraudulent cryptocurrency scheme.

Of course, since I’ve seen this before, “Dara” has to work awfully hard to build my trust. To be sure, if it is a set-up, it’s a fairly convincing one, with all the photos she’s sent – although I know just how easy it is to create a convincing series of photos of a non-existent (or no-longer-existent) person – but the fact is that I’m in no mood to be taken in. It doesn’t even help that she claims to have an uncle who supposedly advises people from Goldman Sachs, J.P. Morgan, and Morgan Stanley, because she isn’t the first to claim to have such a financially skilled uncle (although I can’t seem to find a letter to you about that particular girl). And when she rabbits on about having lost money on stock investments such as Apple, Microsoft and Nvidia – companies I’ve had (and still have) in my own portfolio – compared to her crypto investments, well… let’s just say I can smell the barbeque, and I have no intention of being on the menu.

What I find amusing about this is that she’s trying to sell a get-rich-quick scheme to someone who already thinks of himself as, maybe not “rich” as such, but who has more than enough. When you’re in such a position, it’s hard to get scammed; the only concern is that (if she IS real) I might be missing out on a relationship. Then again, if we were to meet in person, would I really want to constantly be harangued by my girlfriend to invest in this or that cockamamie scheme? I’d be better off with a gynoid, or nothing at all.

So that’s what’s been happening to me over the last day or so; I hope you’ve found it more amusing than tedious. For now, though, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck, as I’m pretty sure I’m going to need it.