So, I just learned what a catfish is. Because I met one. Look, I’m not even mad. But I was not expecting that to happen.

He said he was a former model. He was older, at least his age said he was. The photos were believable and consistent. He didn’t have photos of young him and old him. There was a group photo of him and his friends and he had himself marked, even making a funny reference to that in his bio. 

We chatted for a day or two before agreeing to meet for drinks at a restaurant. I know-but at least it wasn’t coffee this time. He did mention that meeting there would give me a chance to decide if I would even want to stay and have dinner with him-which is what sold me, honestly. I had never thought about it that way.  

He said he’d be waiting at the bar, but I didn’t see him. Thinking he was late, I sent him a text letting him know I was there. He text right back and said he was too. I looked back at the bar and when I tell you I thought he was someone’s grampa, it’s not an exaggeration. 

Now, I like an older man. But he was in Sugar Daddy territory-and I’m doing the math as someone who has been out of the age-range demographic of “aspiring sugar baby” for a few years. But, I was there, he was there and now I had questions. 

His appearance, first of all, was not bad. He was still handsome-as a man 20 years older than he put on his profile. Thinking back on our chats, I can see that I missed certain cues-like trying to use casual slang terms that missed, not knowing pop culture I grew up on. Dad jokes, but the ones my dad still tells. Seeing him, sitting at the bar dressed in Affliction with a guilty look told me he hadn’t done it from a bad place. 

He was just a guy trying to meet a women of a certain age bracket that he’s more attracted to and who probably wouldn’t give him a chance otherwise. And he was right-and wrong. Either way, it was a desperate play. 

I was honest and told him I was not interested in dating men that much older than me. And then I offered a truth he maybe hadn’t considered:

“If you can lie about what you look like, and how old you are, that means you can lie about who you are and other important things. Starting off with a lie is not going to build trust.” (Same goes for the ladies.)

He was very offended, saying he doesn’t look ‘that’ old. What happened next–guys!  I can’t make this stuff up. It was so perfectly timed, I was speechless. A waitress came up to me and asked:

“Hey there, there, can I get you and your grandpa a table, or are you just here for drinks?”

Was he mad? Maybe? Did he throw a fit? Not exactly. Lemme try to remember how this went:

HIM: “Young lady, it’s rude to assume age. I’m her date.”

ME: “Stop that, gramps, it’s not funny.”

That ‘s actually when he got mad. But he had tried to use me as some sort of validation-and I didn’t agree to it. He did get to leave with the last word though:

“You’re not pretty enough to be picky. Or skinny enough. You should take what you can get.”

Flabbergasted. The audacity of this PawPaw. But damn if I didn’t feel bad for him. Hot take:

Maybe it’s the writer in me, the storyteller, but at that point, I saw him as the person who felt the need to do what he did. His wife probably passed away, his kids are grown and gone. Could be retired. Has friends, but they are all married, their wives living. Seeing them makes him think about his wife and he misses her. But then he thinks he misses just having a partner in life. Having the chance to “start over” choosing young seems the best option. Because-and hear me out-he can’t outlive her. He would go before her, so he wouldn’t have to feel the pain of losing someone he loves again-well, accidents and health issues withstanding. The desperation could have come from that. 

Did I just romanticise a catfish? Yes, I did. And I’m not sorry. For all I know, he cheated on his wife and everyone he dated after that, not thinking there was a chance in hell he’d ever be in a position to orchestrate meeting women under false pretenses. Maybe he’s a divorcee who is only just now ready to date again. Or his ex-wife cheated on him and he’s never been able to trust another woman… I’ll stop. 

I’ve always seen men as strong protectors. Especially older men. I’ve never attributed some of the more softer-even manipulative- thought processes that women have, being relevant to men, too. Even the circumstances that led them to make the choices they did, to look for what they do.

That may not be true of him or anyone else. And for sure, I know there are people out there whose motivations are selfish and mean. I think we are so much more exposed to those stories that we are conditioned to automatically stereotype the people we meet-online or even in passing through life- into those boxes created for us. Thus allowing someone else to think for us, potentially setting us up for failure. Or success. Or safety. Or whatever they want for us.  

It’s something to think about. Which I shouldn’t, brings back memories of things I’d rather not think about. 

Anyway, my friend just sent me a picture of a guy she wants to set me up with. He just moved into town, so no priors (that being relationships with anyone in our town). She says he has an Australian accent–wow. He looks very pretty in the picture: blondish hair, light eyes, a little tan. Looks to be in great shape. And she said he’s in the age bracket I prefer–mine. 

Not sure if I want to meet blind though. Or at all.

I could tell her to give him my number so we can talk first. 

Til next time (I don’t know when that will be tho)

Me