We Asked People To Share Their Most WTF Online Catfishing Stories

The thrilling anonymity offered by online dating also means that it always comes with a risk of catfishing. These fictitious online personas, typically complete with fake photos, are intended to mislead people into infatuation, perplexity, or sometimes down fraudulent ways. 

Of course, these have been around since the dawn of the internet, but they exploded in numbers when dating apps like Tinder revolutionized the online dating game. Now, catfishing can be as casual as selecting only the most flattering photos for your profile, or slightly exaggerating your love for hiking after climbing that hill that one time. But sometimes, stories are so wild, it’s hard to believe they didn’t come from a sensational Lifetime movie — or has at least been turned into one. 

We asked people what it’s really like to be fooled online and, it turns out, catfishes come in all shapes and size. Yes, some are creeps preying on innocent online daters, or sly online scammers looking for a quick buck, but underneath some of the most WTF stories are also humans grappling with profound loneliness or crippling insecurity.

The lonely DMV lady

This happened nearly 20 years ago, right around the time OkCupid was first becoming a thing. I was 24 and it was my first time actually going on a date from OkCupid. I was pretty active and artistic, and had put that in my profile: fire dancing, theater, circus arts, rock climbing, going to Burning Man — that kind of thing. I found my date there. She said she was 23 and into most of the things I was into, which seemed pretty awesome, so I agreed to meet her at the local ice cream store.

I got there and the woman who walked in was at least as old as my mother. I’m guessing she had to be north of 50. She was obviously very out of shape, too, and couldn’t possibly be doing the activities she described. But I chatted with her anyway, mostly just out of curiosity. It turned out that she had worked at the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) for the last 30 or so years, and all that stuff in her profile were the things she wanted to have done, but never actually did. I ended up going for a walk with her and talking, but that was it. It was obvious we weren’t going to keep dating.

“All that stuff in her profile were the things she wanted to have done, but never actually did.”

I’m a bit too confrontation-averse, so I just asked about who she was, but never brought it up directly. I figured she was lonely. She sort of talked about who she really was, though, so she dropped the act right away. We just didn’t bring up the fake profile at all, and I tried to figure out the real person, which was just this lonely old DMV worker lady. — Noah, 39

Catfishing for sushi

Last year, I matched with this girl on Bumble. We hit it off quite well and everything seemed fine, so I suggested meeting for a meal. That’s when things started getting weird. After I asked her out, she would go on about how she had friends that would treat her to exorbitant meals. To me it was like “Weird flex, but OK,” and I was kind of a simp — she was hot in her photos and I was feeling the chemistry between us over text. She’d also suggest expensive places to me for our meal and even mentioned omakase (a chef-curated Japanese meal that’s typically pricey) a few times, but I just brushed it off. 

We decided on a sushi place in town. She was an hour late and kept warning me about how she might look different. I didn’t think too much about it but when she finally arrived, I wanted to bail, hard. I genuinely didn’t recognize her. She didn’t look bad in real life, but her photos were not an honest representation of how she looked. 

“I genuinely didn’t recognize her. She didn’t look bad in real life, but her photos were not an honest representation of how she looked.”

When we arrived at the sushi restaurant, she started ordering expensive sashimi cuts and drinks while not really engaging in the conversation, that’s when I realized what was happening. After the meal, she looked to be in a rush to go somewhere and I decided to just leave as well. She stopped replying to my texts and after a few days, I figured that she was ghosting me. The meal cost me SG$130 ($96). — Darryl, 27

A soap opera that played out over AOL

During my teen years, I frequented the dating chat rooms on AOL Instant Messenger. Before long, conversing with my new friend became a much-anticipated part of my nightly routine. Many of her anecdotes included references to her identical twin, and as topics came to include more intimate details, our interactions took a turn.

During one memorable exchange, she told me about how she and her twin sister had a foursome with their boyfriends while their parents were out of town. Then, after a month or two of daily conversation, she told me that her sister and her father died in a car accident. I did my best to offer my condolences, but I was out of my element. I was just a 16-year-old kid with no idea of how to comfort someone during a genuine tragedy, so I asked what I could do to help. The girl told me that I should “distract” her by sending graphic pictures of myself. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me but I complied.

The stories became wilder. She said her mother suffered a debilitating accident and died soon after. She was supposedly sent to live with her uncle, who forced her to work at his strip club. Then, she said she learned that she had been adopted at birth. Throughout it all, I offered whatever reassurance I could muster, even as my long-suppressed suspicion began to assert itself. As more and more inconsistencies started cropping up, I realized that I had been swallowing lie after lie for months.

I gave her an ultimatum — she could either tell me who she really was, or I would permanently cut off contact with her. It led to our first (and only) meeting via webcam. The girl on my screen was a teenager, but that was the only truthful link to the description she had given me.

“The girl on my screen was a teenager, but that was the only truthful link to the description she had given me.”

The twin, I learned, never existed, and the girl’s parents were both alive and well. All of her stories, she claimed, had been invented to “keep me interested,” because according to her, I wouldn’t have kept talking to her if I had learned who she really was. In the end, she was proven right: I did stop talking to her, because by then, I had learned that I couldn’t trust a single thing she said. — *Timothy, 35

A sketchy investment

I don’t really consider her a catfish since I didn’t meet the person; I guess it was more of a scam. At the start, I was not particularly suspicious, as there was zero talk of anything to do with money — just general feeler questions about interests and family. There was a bit of back and forth for about two days before she asked if I played with stocks. I said I wasn’t interested, and she said I should learn from her. Then she said some more things about stocks that I didn’t understand.

“There was a bit of back and forth for about two days before she asked if I played with stocks.”

At this point, it was pretty obvious what was going on. I asked her if she would video chat with me because I knew she would refuse, and, of course, she did. I told her that I had zero interest in investing money in anything. To which she replied, “You have to be interested in investing so that we can be together.” I told her “No thanks.” — *Ryan, 29

The perfect girl

The only time I’ve ever been catfished was the time my ex set up a fake account to test my loyalty. At the time, Allie and I were navigating a long-distance relationship, after she had moved across the country. Because of college, I could only spend summer and winter breaks with her, and for the rest of the relationship, we were over 1,000 miles apart.

One day, I got a friend request on Facebook from a beautiful girl I didn’t recognize. Right away, I knew it was bullshit. We had no mutual friends and she was far too attractive to decide that I should be her first Facebook friend. Then I noticed the name: Eilla. I might not have noticed that her name was my girlfriend’s name backwards, but she had also given this fake account her backwards last name. I declined the request and messaged her real account, “Nice try, Eilla.” To which she responded, “How the fuck did you know?” 

“One day, I got a friend request on Facebook from a beautiful girl I didn’t recognize. Right away, I knew it was bullshit.”

I took a second look at the profile and a pattern emerged: Eilla had dark hair, listed books in her interests, and was a college graduate. It became clear to me that Allie had molded Eilla to be exactly what she feared I would prefer over her. Really, it was quite sad, and I think that’s part of the reason I put up with her trust issues. I thought past trauma was the root of it all. — *Lincoln, 37

Neopets, emo teenagers, and a massive throwback to 2004

From middle school to early high school, I was super into Neopets. This was in 2004, at the height of Neopets’ popularity, and there were forums for all these subsections of the site. One of these forums was dedicated to online role-playing, which is kind of like collaborative story writing where each person has control of a character. It’s basically playing pretend, but writing out everything that’s happening.

Through this, I eventually became part of a small friend group. We’d do our role-playing on Neopets and chat with each other outside of the site, through instant messaging. There was Jenny, her brother Mark, and another girl Rachel (whom Mark was dating). In pictures we exchanged with one another, Mark was your classic pale emo boy with side-swept bangs, which 13-year-old me was totally into.

Not long after, Mark and Rachel broke up. Mark and I started talking more and soon started “dating,” which the group was supportive of, especially Jenny. This was before video chatting was even really a thing, so all our communication was over text.

Christmas came, and my mom helped me send an assortment of gifts off to Mark. He had promised to send me something too, but right around then he essentially disappeared — my very first ghosting!

“He had promised to send me something too, but right around then he essentially disappeared — my very first ghosting!”

A week after that, I got a long message from Jenny, where she confessed that there was no Mark. It turned out that Jenny was a closeted lesbian and “Mark” was how she was exploring flirting with girls. — Marie, 29

*Names have been changed for privacy.

Responses have been edited for length and clarity.