Perhaps I Should Rename this Blog….

…Misadventures in Online Dating

Fair warning - This one is kind of a long one.

We’ve already established that I have the worst luck with online dating (see post Oh “Amber”…..). I think because I am plus size and have a sweet disposition (kindness matters!!!) people think that I am gullible or not too bright, but they are wrong. Way. Wrong. Enter my newest adventure in online dating. Out of the blue last Saturday (9/26) I got a message on Elite Singles from…..let’s call him Brad. Brad is an incredibly attractive private pilot who dabbles in real estate. I try not to put people in boxes, but Brad looks like the type of guy with a super hot super model girlfriend….not a larger, although gorgeous, girlfriend. There is also this underlying feeling that I have seen Brad somewhere before.

Our messages on the site went like this:

After some internal struggle I gave him the benefit of the doubt that he doesn’t have Facebook Messenger (even though it seems really weird that he wouldn’t) and texted the number he gave me. And so, our texting “relationship” started. He would start texting me at ungodly early hours and stop texting sometime around early evening. He seems nice and ambitious so I continue giving him the benefit of the doubt. I deleted my first message to him early on, but our conversation went (with commentary):

I should add here that at some point over the weekend I was Snapchatting my nephew and Brad’s number came up as a suggested contact, but the user name was Mike. Red flag. This good morning message was kind of weird, but I was still trying to be open minded and roll with it.

Sadly, the texting to the nephews and nieces didn’t happen…..I felt like a jerk.

I cringe at the use of hon (dear is also starting to get to me by this point….that gets WAY worse), which sparks a query on Facebook about when it is appropriate to start using terms of endearment.

That morning message was weird again. Something feels really off at this point. The words and the pictures just don’t jive. I was a little hopeful that he was going to decide to stop talking to me with his “I hope you find…..,” but then he wanted to call me. I was still rolling with it. Skeptical, but rolling.

Work things out? I flipping “met” him on Saturday. Red flag. I have had conversations with my friends at this point and they keep telling me I am being catfished. I’m not saying they are wrong, I’m just intrigued…..so I persevere.

If I were catfishing someone, I would want to “assure” them that I am not a catfisher….red flag.

At this point Brad sends me a picture of himself holding his medical test clearance (certificate?). Thing one that doesn’t add up is the background location, thing two is the date of the examination although fuzzy, doesn’t look right. The guy in the picture is definitely named Brad, but his name is really fuzzy and so is his last name.

I look at the clock, it’s barely 9:30.

Before we move on, what does “tell me about it” mean to you? To me, it is generally a statement of agreement, not an actual invitation to talk about it.

Here Brad sends me a picture of him riding in a car. The first thing I notice is that his facial hair is mostly gone. He doesn’t have enough for a full beard, but there is too much for having shaved his beard off over night. Red flag. I sent him a very unflattering picture of my self from a horrible angle. I know that I am a bigger girl and I don’t want anyone to say that I misled them so I always send full body pictures and make sure I have at least one full body picture on my dating profiles.

Pretty sure I already told him my schedule for the day……

So Brad calls me. He sounds like he is mumbling, and has an accent I wasn’t expecting. I totally don’t mind if he has an accent or is from a different culture than I am, I was just surprised because the voice I heard didn’t match the pictures. We talked for about a minute….mostly him repeating his question (you had something to tell me?) and me not being able to understand or hear him (don’t mumble!).

Consequently, I do still get asked by telemarketers if my mom is home or if I am named after my mom.

Apparently it didn’t sink in that I have class from 4-5:30 because around 4:30 he calls me.

My class (okay it’s really my DBT group) gets over at 5:30. I go to the restroom and then promptly call Brad. No answer. Shocker. Brad’s voicemail is “This customer is not available, please leave a message at the tone.” Dude! Why doesn’t he have his voicemail set up? I leave a message and go to bed. I then do a reverse image search of one of Brad’s pictures and figure out why he looks familiar. He is in some of the promotional pictures for a business leader I follow.

A purposeful full body photo. Consequently, I was really excited because I have been becoming lighter thanks to my DBT skills and this was the first time I’ve been able to wear this dress in years. It was my congratulations gift to myself when I got my first job. I’m getting off topic though……

I have now looped in several of my coworker friends and we are entertained by the progress of my “relationship”. I started a group text for all of us called Disasters in Dating…..I imagine we will get some good use out of the group.

Then comes the snark….

Oh boy. I already know that something is off with Brad….that is clear. So, it’s time for some honesty.

Woah, wait! When did this become my fault?

Again with the assurances…..and girl. Sigh. In case you haven’t guessed, by now, the screen shots are from where I kept sending pics of the conversation to Disasters in Dating. Then things got really good…..

Insert a lot of joking in Disasters in Dating about how I should introduce Brad to Marco Polo the person and Marco Polo the swimming pool game. I am doubtful that Brad….who I am certain is a fraud, will ever download Marco Polo and message me.

My friend, who had been watching 90 Day Fiancee, is convinced that Brad is really a call center worker from India posing as the real Brad. We discuss this in Disasters in Dating. This theory is further strengthened by the Marcopolo buses used in India.

That last text happened because I Googled the name of the building behind Brad in his medical certificate picture and figured out that the picture was taken on the East Coast….not California where his profile says he lives. IF Brad were the real Brad, our timing struggle would make sense because of the three hour time difference.

I just couldn’t let it go though. I went back to Brad being on that business leader’s website and connected the dots between the business leader and one of his close associates. From there I went to the associate’s Instagram, found a picture of Brad showing the associate as Brad’s boss, pitched it to Disasters in Dating, and my friends hunted down Brad’s Instagram profile, which led to his last name, which led to A LOT of stuff. And I knew that texting Brad was not real Brad. I found the pictures he sent me. The pilot’s medical certificate was from early summer and the picture of him in the car was from 2018.

As I suspected, the real Brad has a super hot girlfriend. Scrolling through Brad’s Instagram (he has hundreds of thousands of followers) it is clear he appears to live an interesting life. He flies planes, drives fancy cars, has a great job, knows influential people. Brad had some video clips posted and sounded and acted a lot more like the Brad I expected from the pictures. I felt relieved that my people reading skills are still on pointe.

Looking at real Brad’s pictures reminded me that I have life goals and ambitions. I should be more like the real Brad and get back to living my best life. And suddenly, I was grateful for real Brad. Not fake Brad, because bad behavior should not be reinforced with a reward. I believe everything happens for a reason, and maybe fake Brad happened so real Brad could remind me the direction I want my life to head. Not that he needs another one, but I followed Brad on Instagram so he could keep reminding me.

It was impossible to sleep last night. My brain just didn’t want to stop talking about fake Brad and how people who pretend to be other people are awful. I expected to get a text between 3 and 4 this morning…..nothing. I did get up to this super fun email:

Normally I get these notices the next day…..fake Brad must have caught me early on in his identity stealing adventure. A little later in the morning I hear the suspense text tone go off on my phone (I made his tone suspense so that it would make me giggle when it went off) and this happened:

Never, fake Brad. I will never be free. I haven’t heard anything else from him. If he does get back to me, I’m going to send him real Brad’s dated Instagram photos that match the one’s he sent me. (Insert sigh and eye roll here).

Fake Brad gave my friends and I a few days of entertainment. I haven’t laughed so much since before the COVID-19 pandemic began, and it felt really great. I’m not really sad that Brad turned out to be a fake or that real Brad isn’t interested in me (I want a life of adventure…..but maybe not so much adventure). I am a little sad that I won’t have an easy way to meet that business leader I follow on Twitter….but that will happen some day. I’ve just gotta get through my dissertation and figure out how I am going to use my doctorate to help business leaders and their teams grow together.

I’ll keep you posted if anything else happens. I kind of want to send real Brad a message thanking him for helping me rekindle my ambitions. Maybe I will….