The One When I Got Catfished For the First Time

I am a cliche.

As the new year rolled around, I decided to try my hand at online dating again. I opted for Bumble this time, as the thought of trawling through Tinder filled me with a bit of dread. I’ve used Bumble briefly before but I’d never been able to get a real conversation flowing there, which probably says wonders for my opening lines (for those of you not familiar, the woman must start the conversation on Bumble). But I had high hopes this time. My new found optimism was probably the result of reading my horoscope one too many times; apparently 2017 is my year when it comes to love. But then again, they probably say that for all signs.

With that insider ‘knowledge’, I started swiping – an act that makes me realise how fussy I am. Not before long, I swiped right on a man called Caleb, whose facial features immediately caught my attention even if his photos weren’t of great quality (red flag number one). I didn’t think much else of it and when he didn’t appear in my match queue a couple of days later, I assumed he’d left swiped me. No love lost, it’s the name of the game so to speak.

But when Caleb’s face did enter my match queue, I was delighted. I came up with a quip relating to his profile, and waited. And when our conversation flowed, I was even more delighted. He put the commas in all the right places, he loved getting lost in a good book, and he was American. Did I ever tell you guys how much of a sucker I am for an accent? He felt too good to be true. Yet in some smug way, I felt as if I had defied the ‘no one ever talks on Bumble’ idea.

But when it’s too good to be true, it probably is.

A day later he uploaded a new photo to his Bumble profile, again with the same shockingly poor quality, and it  looked nothing like the other one he’d uploaded, my suspicions came to an all-time high. I examined the two photos against each other; a similar nose, but the eyes, cheekbone structure and the eyebrows were completely different. Perhaps it’s the effect of M’s bullshit that I had to put up with for nine months, but I couldn’t even be bothered to hear Caleb out. The answers were pretty clear to day. And with that I sent a “nice catfish job” message. That’s the last we ever spoke.

Onwards we go.


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