How I Catfished Myself
I decided to try Tinder, and you know what, it was cool. At first. I met some guys that were all pretty fun, and a few that were forgettable. One guy, I’ll call Aaron, was decent looking, but was a bit boring when we started chatting. Not my type, I guess. We swapped numbers but nothing happened.
Months later, I met a dude at a party—a friend of a friend—who was also named Aaron. He was hot, he was smart, he loved my jokes. We spent the whole night making each other laugh and talking about all the weird stuff we have in common. I texted him that week and he was excited to see me. He worked near a great place I wanted to try anyway, so I picked him up after work.
The dude that got into my car was not Aaron. I had never seen this guy in my life but he acted like he knew me. What was going on? Was I losing my mind? He knew me well enough, but when I started asking questions about the party that he could not answer, I realized what had happened.
I had merged my Aarons in my contacts and texted the wrong Aaron.
I catfished myself.
Trying to desperately avoid whatever terrible karma would be in store for me if I bailed, I just went on and had dinner with Tinder-Aaron. Dinner was awkward, to say the least, but Tinder-Aaron was a totally normal guy, just not the guy I was excited to see.
That was the last time I used Tinder. I miss you, party-Aaron, but I am too mortified to text you.
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