Spoiled Catfish

Spoiled Catfish

The year of 2015 was the year that I let my conscience and library of morals walk out of my life, just for a little while. The summer (to be exact) is when I let everything go; my dignity and lack of direction and judgement was at an all-time low. Things got a little dirty, feelings were handed and thrown away, but fun was the underlying theme.

Please do not take my carelessness for weakness; it’s not what you think. Summer ’15 had marked a year of me being single and I wanted to lose control. Yes, lose control because I am a control freak, but it’s getting better. The freak in me wants to control my love life, school life, even my financials. Once the control isn’t in the freaks’ hands, the world is not in balance. I don’t know how to mentally function when I can’t control the empty variables in my life. With that being said, in attempt to control the lack of love in my life, I took a new route.

I have never been a fan of online dating. I laugh at the very thought of the show “Catfish” and the troubles that the desperate have. I live by the “too many fish in the sea” rule. I never had a problem with meeting people in the real world, so I’m sure the irony will be evident in this story. Unfortunately, desperate became my name for the time being and I found a spoiled fish in the sea of Tinder. A close friend of mine had recommended the devilish app and had bragged so much about her success with dates. We already know that my moral compass was askew, because I downloaded the app and went to town; I set up my profile and my preferences to my likings. Smiling at my destiny on the screen, I just knew I was ready to meet someone new.

When I first encountered the fish is a lonely night in May when I house-sat for my grandmother and swiping left and right was the event of my choice. I had been writing for my website that was under construction and wanted a change of scenery from the glare of my laptop. Like any other day, I had matched with a pretty young lady, but this time I was going to take the plunge and put myself out there. I sent a message to Tiffany (let’s just call her that for privacy purposes) and started a conversation. She was in the city and wanted to hang out after 20 minutes of casual “nice to meet yous” and “what are you up to tonights”. For once I wanted to get past the standard introduction and connect with someone; it had been a year since my ex had called it quits and it was the summer, you can’t blame me. Thirty minutes in and we have exchanged numbers and planned on meeting up to hang that night. Yes, I gave a stranger my number and my general area of location, but quite frankly there was absolutely nothing else going for me expect a warm spot on the couch that had a permanent imprint of my body in it.

Regretting my poorly made decisions, I ignored her calls three times that night. Yup, the control came rushing back; I didn’t like how careless I felt. Not to mention that I suddenly no longer had the balls to leave the house to meet up with a stranger at 11 o’clock that night. I slept peacefully to say the least. The next morning consisted of me making breakfast for one, watching tv, and answering five text messages from Tiffany. “OMG, I feel asleep. I was so exhausted”, I lied. “Lol, good morning. It’s fine. Maybe we can meet up later today”, she said. I threw the phone on the couch and laughed, as if. Thinking the fun was over since I had ended this virtual relationship in my head, it was nowhere near over.

The afternoon crept in and my day was the same from the day before, boring. Writing, eating, sleeping, and the occasional smoke was my routine, no visitors, no fun. However, I was content seeing that meeting up with strange women wasn’t on my list of things to do. A phone call from an unfamiliar number broke my boring zen; I answered like normal. “Who is this?” I said. The voice with a base deeper than my father’s and closer to my grandfather’s came through the phone. I pulled the phone from my ear and looked at the number on the screen with the classic “WTF face” like the phone was supposed to report who I was speaking with. Who was I speaking with? “Anthony from Tinder? You’re Sade’, right?” My heart had officially left my chest and a huge load of fear had replaced it. My mind was racing, mentally retracing my steps to figure out who the hell I had really given my number to. Thinking back to a crazy night out when I had thrown my number to randoms I never planned on speaking to past that night, but it still didn’t add up.

“You have the wrong number”, I said. I couldn’t press END any faster or harder to end this moment, literally mashed my finger into the phone. “Oh my f***ing God”, I said. I had sworn in His name and didn’t even repent two seconds later like usual. It was serious. I had just been played… by a man… who appeared to be a woman… ON TINDER. I had given this man my location, phone number; I just knew he had my address, social security number and blood type. Mentally and almost physical running away from “Tiffany”, it didn’t take long for me to 1. Block their number and 2. Get the hell off of Tinder. I was breathing so hard, the escape had become real for me and I hadn’t ran anywhere at all. Piecing each step from the night before that led me to this catfish moment was making my hands sweat, head dizzy, and dignity deflated like an old Happy Birthday balloon. I immediately felt like something had been taken from me, maybe my innocence. Regardless of me halfway trying to be a skeez for one night, I was really who I was, my location was real, and HE called my real phone. HE! It was a man. This is the sentence that I screamed in my head, but there was a thick silence that resonated in the room and a tiny ringing in my ear.

I was sick with embarrassment and real fear; I paced the room as I frantically put up my virtual fort. My loneliness and boredom had ultimately brought me to this moment and I had no one but myself to blame for the dumbest and craziest venture I had ever experience. I needed to clear my mind and shake “Tiffany” or “Anthony” off of me. My mind was not in tact after the ringing in my ear stopped and the breaking of silence with my shrieks; I can’t tell you what I did after, but I shared this story with you for a number of reasons.

First, I need to be the poster child for anti-Tinder, because why not? My online dating virginity had been taken and it was the worst sex I’ve ever had. I was led to believe one thing about this love-matching application and was a terrible fail. Secondly, I would love if I could be the one to warn the rest of you blind desperates away from the Tinder light. Please stick to the other fresh fish in the sea; meeting people in real life is seen as normal for a reason. Lastly, this is probably the funniest/dumbest/scariest/ and who doesn’t enjoy those? Don’t lie to me. I hope you’ve taken what you’ve needed from this story and laughed a little on the way. Don’t catch spoiled fish. Peace.

Text: Sade' Louis