Day 1 – December 12, 2016
I have been online dating on and off since May. I have also lost track of how many times I’ve been catfished. My expectations for online dating are really low, and this time I jumped back in with the intent of finding a catfish. I just put myself on a not super incognito assignment. My blog is directly in my dating profile. I also include the fact that I will share really tasteless texts with friends. I don’t mention there’s a whole Facebook album, but if they really wanted to date me, they would probably check me out. They follow similar patterns and as I was approached online by someone today that was practically reading a familiar script, I thought I would over think this for you.
First, he’s someone I would date. He’s between 35 and 49 (only if he’s ridiculously beautiful). He looks much younger than the age he claims is his. He’s got hair I can imagine running my fingers through or he’s bald. I don’t know what it is with bald heads, but I’m not complaining. He has laugh lines and salt and pepper hair. He’s more tan than deathly pale, but more likely to burn than tan under the sun. He’s tall and has a great smile. His body isn’t much softer than mine. I prefer it when he loves his body as much as he wants me to. He might be a runner or into Crossfit, but he’s definitely not surfing the couch most days. I don’t really care about grammar and spelling because there’s a chance he speaks Italian or German or French or Hebrew or Arabic. I’m picky but I’m not. I’m charmed by the variance in his word choice. He usually makes the first move beyond matching because I love it when a man knows what he wants and what he wants looks like me. I’m not picky about tattoos but he doesn’t have any. There’s probably a catfish credo about being appealing to most single women over 35. They live in Beverly Hills or Santa Monica or Culver City but they’re out of town for work.
This one had a picture that looked like any all American blonde adonis.
A few have been engineers. I’ve met businessmen that buy and sell minerals. They are archeologists. They are street planners in rural areas of America. They are airline pilots. They work in fields where years of schooling or luck, intuition and entrepreneurial grit have have given them financial comfort. All that’s missing is a partner in love.
They want to know what my connections are. Will I have someone to answer to? Is there an angry clan that has my back? Am I close to my family or am I so lonely that I would do my very best to please him or help him when he runs into some terrible situation.
Working independently of a solid location means they travel. They want to take you with them. When they can, of course. But this also means they’ll get stuck in a precarious situation that only the love of their life, that they met two weeks ago can bail them out.
They want to know what you do and how much you make. They want to know if you can take care of their needs and see it as helping each other out, but they ask first. Even before you’ve ever met or spoken on a phone and you will probably never meet in person.
This one actually broached the topic of being scammed. This doesn’t usually happen, but he needed to gauge what he was working with.
Back to the question of how I will support him. He starts talking about vacation, suggesting the notion that he wants me to go with him. I may be thinking a local coffee shop after work, but he’s hoping I will love the idea of an Aladdin type magic carpet ride.
Again, we talk of the cat fish. He’s looking out for me. I can see this, right?
I thought the conversation would stop here, but hours later he started chatting again.
He talks about the city I have always lived in as if it’s a foreign place to me, but when I ask where he is, he takes the time to come up with an answer I’m almost certain a map search provided. Actually, the Virginia Robinson Gardens is a stop on my “go-do-be-see” list. It’s on Elden Way. You should check it out.
There’s something in his text that doesn’t sound like New York or Cali. He says “Mum” instead of “mom.” His phrases are off a bit because he’s not a native speaker, so I ask to give him the opportunity to come up with something solid.
He sticks to his story and then this happens:
The conversation goes back to the bread crumb hope that he will see me soon. Soon is always a week or two out but never actually happens.
More to come. Will you be reading?