The Catfish

Many people in my life (friends, coworkers, casual acquaintances) have been asking me to start a blog about my dating life in South Florida. The story usually follows as such.....Me: calling friends regarding my crazy date 2: friends responses such as "this could only happen to you" 3: friends suggestion, you really need to start a blog.

So in an effort to make it easier to share my crazy stories (and hopefully warn others about the creatures known as men that lurk the streets of South Florida) I have finally succumbed to writing this blog. Who knows? Maybe it will be cathartic? What I do know most of all it will be entertaining to all you choose to read along.

So we shall begin with my most recent story I will call "the Catfish."

I have long subscribed to the school of thought that you can NOT meet a quality man at a bar. To which many of my single girlfriends reply, but why? You're quality and you're in a bar.

During Christmas time, I met a friend in town for a drink at the bar. I didn't want to go. I had to put on makeup, pick out an outfit and blow dry my long hair. Really? I decided I wasn't helping myself sitting at home on a Friday night watching 20/20 so I decided to make the effort and go to the W. Aforementioned friend was over an hour late arriving, leaving me to start consuming vodka sodas solo at the bar. (Now, you should all know that I am SUCKER for tall men. I mean REALLY REALLY tall men). I see a dude about 6'6, good looking and has a"surfer" sort of appeal. He strikes up a conversation with me, and of course, my distrusting sarcastic ass is dishing it out to him on his pick up lines. However, he's not only taking it, but dishing it back. Instant swoon from me. He gets my phone number and I leave the bar thinking I'll never talk to this guy again. To my surprise, I wake up the next morning with 3 drunk txts (about 3am) and a voicemail. I txt him in the AM to again, give him more shit about booty calling me. He immediately starts apologizing, claims he doesn't remember, and he would love to hang out with me today to show me he's "normal." So I bite... We go to some of the bars on Ft. Lauderdale beach....have a fun time, click and really enjoy each other's company.

At this point he informs me he will be leaving for 15-20 days due to the fact he works on an oil rig out of town. But that wouldn't stop him from keeping in touch. I think yea, right! Well, to my amazement, he starts txting me daily - sweet messages such as, "I miss you!" "I'm so happy I met a beautiful girl like you!" "I can't wait to see you again and just kiss you!" "You are not only beautiful, but your personality supersedes your looks!" and other various bullshit lines that all girls want to hear. Okay, so I'm hooked. I think, WOW! Maybe you can meet a really nice guy at a bar who is attractive, funny, and has the same dry sense of humor you do......

So after a month of communicating daily he just STOPS. Cold turkey. Nothing. He txted me to wish me a goodnight and tell me he was sick. The next day I asked how he was feeling? No response. I txted that I guess his fingers were broken? No response. I realize, something is radically wrong. I erase his phone number, txts, and all the sweet memories of our 8 hour "magical" evening together.

I tried to google him, look for him on image search, nothing. Was this guy just an apparition? I finally stumbled upon a little gem. His MySpace page. I enter the username into google and BAM! There he was, Oil Boy (as affectionately called by my friends and I). Not only was he on several dating websites (including one for sex/swingers called Swingers Palace) he was on a plethora of other social media sites I'd never heard of. One called FUBAR? (hope you know the meaning of that!) REALLY!?? And using all the same pictures he sent me to remember him by while he was away working like a slave....Apparently, he added many girls on Facebook during the month of December alone (only girls). You know, while he was sitting there lonely thinking of me and missing me terribly.  He must be carrying relationships with many other women too. I had been "catfished."

Lesson learned, you can't really meet a quality guy at a bar.

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	A catfish is someone who pretends to be someone they're not using Facebook or other social media to create false identities, particularly to pursue deceptive online romances. Did you hear how Dave got totally catfished last month?! The fox he thought he was talking to turned out to be a pervy guy from San Diego!