Um. Just when I thought the past few weeks couldn’t have been any heavier on the Internet dating absurdity, I got a text from my ex-boyfriend saying this:
- “Hey Nic – hope your day is going well. Just wanted to give you the heads up, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think someone stole your identity again. This time on Plenty of Fish.”
And then I said:
- “WHAT IS GOING ON SEND ME THE LINK IMMEDIATELY I CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY EVERYONE DOES THIS TO ME…???!”
Here’s some background information:
Three years ago, when said boyfriend and I were still together, a friend of mine who lives in Chicago alerted me that he had come across a Facebook profile with some weird name that had a picture of me as the default.
I of course flipped out and reported the page to the site and overused the “Contact Us” feature and sent a strongly worded e-mail to Mark.Zuckerberg@facebook.com (because what if?) but then it bounced back because I guess he went to Harvard and realizes that would just be too obvious.
Luckily, my boyfriend was there to hold my hand throughout this ordeal until the profile was removed and the world made sense again.
So when last week rolled around and that same boyfriend informed me of the fact that I’ve been reverse-Catfished yet again, I experienced an epic moment of anger, déjà vu, and major ice cream consumption.
Like seriously, WTF?
I know I’m vaguely attractive in an approachable way especially if you’re drunk, but please, crazy Catfish people – if you’re going to play these ridiculous games, DO IT LIKE A NORMAL PERSON AND STEAL THE PHOTO OF AN AMATEUR MODEL.
I won’t continue on about this, because I’ve decided that I’m going to write a piece called “An Open Letter to the Guy Who Stole My Identity on Plenty of Fish” that will tell you everything you never wanted to know about this whole situation, and I’ve already said too much.
In other news, I realize that I haven’t blogged in like, weeks – so here’s what I’ve been up to:
- Watching the OWN Network and becoming a generally positive, self-loving, self-fulfilled person. (Feel free to read this unlikely bullet point three or more times to really let it sink in.)
- Writing dating advice columns about closeted dudes.
- Still slaving over
a hot stovemy memoir on a daily basis.
At first I didn’t really care:
Then I was like, Okay, this smoke thing is weird, and also maybe the new pope should sashay out onto the balcony to a nineties pop hit:
And then it was all over just a little too soon: