Catfish Confessions

Catfish Confessions, by Anonymous


Karma’s a bitch. I’d just left the restaurant where I’d paid $27 for a meal that I hadn’t even enjoyed because I’d inhaled it in less than 4 minutes in order to get the hell out of there. Note, I said I’d paid for the meal, since my POF (plenty of catfish) date had mumbled, “Um, we’re going dutch, right?” as he pushed the check toward me. Which really pissed me off because although I’d agreed to share one entree when he insisted he wasn’t hungry, and I’d asked for water while the Sumo wrestler in front of me had two drinks plus desert, and ate 3/4 of our shared entree.


But this was payback from the universe. I needed to suck it up because it just dawned on me that I was guilty of being a catfish. I, too, had joined the ranks of online posers pretending to be someone else- I had lied on an online dating site.


I’d had good intentions. Kinda’. I told myself I was helping John, my client. After all, he was in his 60’s and had never used the internet before so I’d agreed to create a profile for him on Look, John was retired and bored, and had sold a property in Manhattan so you know he made a killing, so he’ hired me to help him to proofread a few poetry books he had self published. I wasn’t going to get rich working as a proofreader, but meeting with him once a week for a few hours helped pay the bills. Besides, I tried to convince him to let me help him to learn how to use the computer, and even suggested he take a free class at the library, but he refused. So, once a week, I would meet with him and go over his messages. And in the beginning, I simply wrote what he asked me to write, and copied/pasted the same message to every woman who contacted him.

But things got complicated. See, John was a bit…eccentric. And, the first time I wrote something different was when one of the women wrote that she was depressed because she’d just come from her friend’s funeral, and she needed to move, and well, his yelling for me to just copy and paste a message so we wouldn’t waste time didn’t seem, enough. I think he has Asbergers. But anyway, I wrote her a poem. And it made her feel better, less lonely, she said.

Then, another woman had lost her cat. C’mon, how was I supposed to ignore a message like that with a “Hope you had a great week,” response? So, I made up a story about a cat, and made her laugh.

Then, there were the older ones. The widows. John had a thing about only wanting to date women in their 30’s or younger. But he was like, almost 70. And although he was financially stable, he wasn’t Donald Trump, so I was just trying to help him out. And there are some gorgeous 50 plus women online looking for love. I mean, Lisa Vanderpump stunning. So, I started sending them messages. No matter how old, how obese, how plain; I sent all of them messages. I made sure to mention just how beautiful each of them were, especially the ugly ones. I know, I know; but these women were lonely, and my heart broke when I read their stories. I just wanted them to feel better, to make them smile a bit, brighten up their day a little.

The problem was once he sent them his number and they called, they would know immediately that he was crazy. Or…eccentric. Not crazy in a dangerous way. He’s quite funny, and charming at times. But a bit of a social misfit.

And so, after spending hours and hours emailing back and forth with hundreds of women, it hit me as I vowed to delete my Plenty of Catfish profile as soon as I get home, that am a bonafide, 100% smelly, catfish.

Can catfishing be justified if you have good intentions? If you only lie by five or ten pounds, or shave off a year or two? Have you ever been guilty of lying just a little on your online profile?