Meet the face of a fake online dating profile! I discovered this fake Match.com profile after I was supposed to meet the guy. This really shouldn’t be a shock, but since I was supposed to meet the guy, I’m slightly freaked out – for all I know he could have been a serial rapist. How did I discover it was a fake profile? I was Googling facial expressions when the guys profile photo turned up in the search results!
A veteran online-dater friend of mine, Jessica, said, “Oh yeah — as soon as you see a professional photo you’ll know it’s a fake profile.” Not a bad theory, but I’m a photographer — I’ve photographed guys for online dating sites. So I’m prone to think if the guy has attention to detail, he’s potentially going to get a real photo taken of himself, no?
How do you weed out the wackos? And what was the guy’s real intention? And who the hell was it, really? And why must everyone lie? This guy’s fake profile just set-me-off thinking about the guy I just broke from, and the gigantic, heart crushing lie that he told. Do you see the can of worms it opened?
I’ve reset the 1 Year Of Single date twice now, but it looks like three’s a charm! I think part of me was still hoping for some kind of divine intervention, where a higher power bestowed a great-partner reward on me even though I shouldn’t have been looking in the first place. And yet part of me can’t help but realize that between my fabulous little son and myself, we don’t really need anyone else.
In any case, what do you do if you discover someone has been lying? I would think it depends on the severity of the lie. Someone who tells you that you look good when you’ve clearly gone overboard in the Tostitos department shouldn’t be sliced from your life. But if you’re like me and you’ve been told a whopping lie so shocking that it sets you sputtering for an hour, these are just a few of my suggestions:
Completely Cut It Off
This is much easier said than done, especially when you’ve been blindsided after finally believing that you may have a future with the fool. But my suggestion is to cut off everything about them immediately. This includes:
No “friendly reminders”
No fulfilling “Well, we always used to…” routines
No attending bars, gyms or clubs that they go to
No chit-chatting with their friends or family
Remove them from every friend list on every site you know
Change their cell name to “Do Not Answer” or change their name to describe their lie “Do Not Answer – Lied About Divorce.”
Remove all reminders of them from every calendar you have so it doesn’t pop up when you least expect it
Remake Your Fun Wish List
I’ve been slacking on this more than I thought I’d be. I have yet to climb a rock wall or even make a goal list. So far the most I’ve done is complete a Match.com profile. Bad. Bad girl.
The meatier tactics you could take are:
Change Departments or Jobs
After Halle Berry told-off Eddie Murphy in Boomerang, she got herself a new job. Consider it. Chances are if you’ve accepted behavior like this from a lover, you’re probably allowing it at work from co-workers or bosses as well. You deserve more.
Change Your Cell Number
I always found this one shocking, and it feels very mean – but if you can do it, you’re golden. If they ever try to contact you again it sends a clear message that you won’t tolerate their sh!t. Uhm… No, I haven’t… But I’m working on it.
Whatever you do, do NOT – I repeat, do NOT:
Do Not Stalk Them
So they left you for a whore or a man-slut. If they can’t see how fabulous you are, they can’t be too bright now, can they? The last thing you want to do is provide fodder for the fool to feel justified. Hold back the crazy and refocus on yourself.
Do Not Stalk Their New Partner
Ew. Why would you want to, anyway? Again – if they’re not bright enough to choose you, why bother? It’s like standing at the meat counter in the grocery store and yelling at the folks who choose chuck over sirloin. Seriously – if you have to explain it, you’re better off without them.
The last few weeks for me have been a wide slap in the face, considering I gave the same person a repeated chance, then ran into someone else’s fake dating profile. Oh we’re all fools for love, don’t pretend otherwise. It’s the few of us that are able to bend our energies into refocusing on what we want, instead of what we don’t want, that make it through the wreckage.
I had no idea I had so much love (totally lying) until @superbadrross called me out on my laziness (totally true) via Instagram (follow him, he likes stalkers). Thanks a lot! I was taking a Facebook IQ test when he ripped the pseudo shower curtain away to reveal me soaking in my tub of laziness. * Splash! My IQ test says I’m only 140, btw. I didn’t feel like answering the last few questions. Thanks for asking. 😛
With a respectful nod to @superbadrross, I’ll now dive back into posting in a completely Fresh mood, including the reasons why commuting through Penn Station is more depressing than visiting a jail. At least when visiting a jail (totally lying — I’ve never visited a jail) you know you can leave at any time. Penn Station — not so much. Penn Station train schedules are like dating: You never really know when your train will pull in. And that huge information screen above the ticket sellers? Lies. All lies.
So as I stood in my totally rad Banana Republic pea coat (with button falling off the lapel) with last years (gasp) Coach bag, I snootily watched the men run by as they attempted to hitch a ride on the nearest (lyingly) scheduled train. What I discovered is that the vast majority of men (and women, but that’s another post), fell into an interesting allotment of categories for which the likes of Harper’s Bazaar will probably never publish. Until an accountant friend of mine came by to say hello, this is the list I accumulated:
The Fat Aviator
This entry clearly disregards my own personal muffin-top and shoots straight for making fun of someone else. This poor man came up the stairs — defeated — sunglasses leading the winded charge as he ascended the stairs. I’m guessing he missed the train. But hey, totally hot sunglasses, yo.
I couldn’t believe the amount of men who looked like they could be accountants. Tall ones, short ones, thin ones, large ones. They all visually screamed, “I’m an accountant!” and I could almost imagine the ticker tapes waving in the breeze as they ran by.
Retro College Nerd
One guy ran by me who looked like he fell out of bed on his way to economics class. Eight years ago.
Guy Who Just Gave Up
Wasn’t there an episode of Seinfeld where Jerry asked George, when he walked in with sweatpants, “Wha’d’ja just give up?” As I stood in Penn Station, one guy ran by in crumpled, chip-stained sweats, like he just gave up (on life, not chips)… Although now that I think about my own personal dating drama, I can’t blame the guy. I may throw him a cocktail next time.
Mad Men Man
This guy ran by with the entire bod-nod to Man Men. And hell, he ran in style. But I couldn’t help but wonder with such tight pants, where does the sweat go?
Super Tall Hottie
This man ran by and all I could think was, “Hot damn, he’s tall.” I couldn’t find anything remotely weird or funny about him because he seemed stylish, put-together and sleek. Just a super tall guy running by. Tall. Super tall.
Overweight Sweating Husband
Vurp. Seriously? I’m sorry. Wait… no I’m not. This is the guy that makes me want to throw my blondness down on the ground and with hands reaching high to the sky in crazy-ass praise and say, “THANK THE LORD – I TRUST YOU! KEEP ME SINGLE IF YOU’RE KEEPING ME FROM SWEATY, RANK, HAIRY, SEX!” (*Heebie jeebies…)
Super Huge Headphones Guy
I turned around at one point to see a gentleman staring at me. I’m assuming he realized I was watching and typing, but he has no idea I’m now posting about the super huge headphones that were perched on his head like a possessively perched cat. He did appear sophisticated,and perhaps he can hear the rings of Saturn hum via his Beats by Dre. (I have no idea what that means – I just made that sh!t up just now.)
Backpack Suit Dude
This kills me. Hours in the shower, in front of the mirror, choosing shoes… “Oh hey, Hon – where’s my backpack?” Seriously? I shed a tear every time I see Backpack Suit Dudes. Dude – you came so close! So close!
Sunglasses Removal Refusal Guy
Oh for the love of everything holy, Man, take off the shades! You’re in the armpit of society here in Penn Station, you’re not impressing anyone but maybe the guy with three garbage bags of cans sleeping in the corner.
There’s a 6-Pack Under My Insulated Cooler, Man
I’m guessing in years past he was the High School Hottie. I can make fun of this insulated guy all I want, but if I don’t get my own ass under control I too will have a super cooled 6-pack. And that really ain’t cool.
Now that I’ve sufficiently made fun of everyone actually moving their ass through Penn Station, I’ll move mine. Jillian Michaels, here I come. Uhg!