That time I got catfished

A couple weeks ago my husband were having a lazy night and tuned into a Catfish marathon on MTV. While I watched the series of unfortunate events unfold I found myself wondering how in the world these people can fall for the bullshit that they’re being fed by the individuals who have been scamming them. For a moment I allowed myself to judge the ever loving fuck out of these people only to silently kick myself and remember that I, too, was a sad sack who wanted to believe in the stories I was being fed.

The setting to this tale was much the same as anyone else who’s experienced the allure of something even better than the real thing. I was in a marriage that was failing in its first year. I had come to the sickening realization that the man who said he loved me was really just in it to get his green card. In his efforts to ensure he got what he needed, he’d alienated me from every friend that I had up until I met him. My only escape from him was to spend my time on the internet and communicate with the outside world through MySpace and Vampire Freaks. For some reason my socially anxious self was able to accept this as I was never really that outwardly social anyway. Yeah, even as a performer. But we all have our contradictions right? 

So one night in December of 2004 I was on Vampire Freaks and I came across this person who lived in Massachusetts. His profile said he was around 27 years of age and he was into a lot of the same bands I was and had very similar interests. I reached out and thus began 5 years of the biggest pack of lies anyone ever told me. At first it was innocent enough. We would spend a fair amount of time chatting about nothing and everything. Over time it came to be the one thing I looked forward to each day when I got home from work while my husband at the time was working at a hotel and getting friendly with the front desk girls and the cleaning girls and, basically, ALL the girls. While he was doing his thing, I was home lamenting my situation with a person I came to know as Morgan from Mansfield. 

Soon our chat sessions became near constant and one night in the summer of 2005 Morgan confessed he had feelings for me. I had already realized some time back that I had the same feelings but I was waiting for him to say it so I wouldn’t have to feel like I was the one being unfaithful to my then-husband. Even though the truth of the matter is that I was by simply having an emotional affair with another individual. But in my mind at that time, I felt like it wasn’t truly cheating because I had never met this person. Even up to this point I hadn’t even spoken to him on the phone so obviously there was enough distance between us to keep it honest right? I can tell you now that it was absolutely wrong no matter how I tried to justify it. Later I learned that the ex had been sleeping around on me and other worse things but that’s not what this story is about.

By the end of that summer, 2005 by that point, I was given an ultimatum from my ex. I was to move with him back to New York where his father was waiting for us after having thrown us out over a year ago for marrying against his wishes. I had no where to go so I reached out to Morgan to ask if he could help. He said he would…. But he was going to Europe so he would not be available. By this point he had admitted that he was a model and he had to travel a lot so meeting was out of the question. I know you’re smirking to yourself now knowing exactly where this is going but it gets so much better and more embarrassing for me.

So I head back to New York under the order of my ex and we set up shop in the home where I worked on music and drank…. A lot. I also spent a lot of my ex’s money since he was never home while he worked on construction projects. That part was nice if I’m to be honest. Since he worked long hours I continued my internet relationship with Morgan while he traveled. Soon things with the marriage became extremely explosive with trips to the hospital for violent fights, drinking binges that turned into alcohol poisoning, and constant screaming and fighting. The ex threatened to throw me out on my ass. I threatened to go to immigration and fall on my sword telling them that I lied and it was a scam marriage. He came back and said he would sleep with someone else. I came back and said I would leave and go to Morgan. He followed through on his threat whereas I had no way of following through on mine. Meanwhile, Morgan “watched” the story unfold from afar offering platitudes and lots of “I would help if I could.” Soon he said, “Get a passport and you can come here to England. I’ll fly you over.” So I did. He disappeared. 

A month went by and I was still trapped in my personal hell. I had been picked up by the NYPD for public intoxication and released after a night in the drunk tank. One day I was online talking to a friend and my instant messenger chimed with Morgan’s cricket tone. He had come back. He was sorry. Could we possibly talk? Desperate for something good, I said of course and the promise to go to England was put aside. I didn’t care. I had my drug back. I had some place to escape while my ex went to New Jersey every weekend to bang his middle aged, belly dancer mistress. Soon the mistress began to taunt me non-stop and insist that I move out so that she could move in. I didn’t relent because I still had my card to play with immigration if my ex tried to put me out on my ass. By that point I had asked my mother for help, I was prepared to leave and move to her home but she refused having told me that I got myself into the mess I was in and I could get myself out. 

Eventually it didn’t matter because the illusion my ex and I were living in was set on fire when his father confessed to sending almost everything in the family business’ bank account to his wife in Kiev. We were going to lose the house we were living in and the business was on the verge of collapse because of the mismanagement of the money. My ex and I made a deal that we would jump ship and return to Massachusetts. By that point Morgan had returned to Massachusetts so I was only too happy to go.

By the summer of 2006 I was in Fall River living in a one bedroom apartment with a blow up mattress, some lawn chairs for seats, little food, and a lot of alcohol. The ex would go out and work with the one car we had and I worked from home. When my mother came for a visit she finally got to see what I had become. There were alcohol bottles all over the place and there was still no furniture. She insisted at that time that I leave my husband and get sober… one way or the other. I accepted and returned with her. By that point I had left so much in New York and now I was leaving more behind in Fall River. It was just me, a bag of clothes, some books and CDs, my computer, and my beloved cat Myron. Meanwhile, Morgan witnessed this all from afar with my nightly reports. He was so relieved when I had left my ex. He said to me, “Now we can finally be together.” 

Then the wait began. I got sober and I got a job in retail. I started seeing friends but my entire life had become centered around when Morgan would finally see me. Several times there were promises made that he would be in town. So I waited. The day passed. Then one day I called out from work only to be told that he had tried to stop by the store to see me. So I stopped calling out just in case he might come by. I waited. Plans were made for Halloween and I waited. Thanksgiving. Christmas. New Years. I waited and waited and waited. Soon it had turned into 2008 and I was still waiting. By this point I had stopped caring and I had started dating other people with the hope that Morgan would become jealous. But still I waited. We talked but it was tense and the fights became frequent. Finally, one night he tells me he’s been hiding a huge secret. After much teeth pulling he admitted he wasn’t a model and he was just “some guy.” He sent me the real picture and still I didn’t care. To me it was the personality. I thought, “Okay so that’s all it was, we can meet now.” Yes, he promised, we can meet now. 

The winter of 2008 came and went and by April I finally had a nice car and I had landed a great job with Lifeline, the “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up” people. My first weekend off I was doing my homework and talking to Morgan and I started to feel my chest hurting and my heart was racing. I called for my mother and she came racing up the stairs and I had her feel my pulse. Immediately she called an ambulance and before I knew it I was on a stretcher and I was being attached to leads with my heart was hammering along at 190 bpm. I was put on an IV and injected with adenosine to chemically convert my heart rate and it worked while I was rushed to the hospital. At the hospital my heart rate skyrocketed again and I went unconscious. When I came to I was told that I had been hit with the paddles and I had an arrhythmia that needed to be monitored so I was admitted to the hospital. Morgan called me for the first time that night and cried, begging me to be okay because he didn’t want me to die. I was so happy that my heart began racing but this time it was all emotion. 

By May I was told I would need to have a heart procedure to check the electrical conduction of my heart and have the bad pieces of my heart ablated. I told Morgan and he said he would be there for me, he was going to ride back from where was now staying in St. Louis. Three days before my procedure he said he was heading out on his motorcycle. I waited. Two nights before my procedure I got a message from Morgan’s brother, “Morgan’s been in an accident. He has a spiral fracture in his right leg and a concussion. He’s in the hospital.” In my panic my heart started racing and my chest hurt again. I called all the hospitals I could map out on the route he could have taken from St. Louis. No one had a Morgan Richards there. So I waited. Morgan called the night before my procedure, he sounded weak, I heard the machines in the background and the hospital sounds. He said he was ok. He wished he could be with me. He felt like he let me down. I said it was okay. When I went in for the procedure the next morning, with no sleep, I laid my head back on the table in the OR and I kept thinking of him even while my heart began to race and I blacked out. When I came to, I learned I had coded and I had clinically died but I was going to be okay. 

I recovered from the procedure and by the end of the summer I had moved in with my friend, moved out of my friend’s house, and returned to my mother’s. I lost my job at the Lifeline place and I was working various temp jobs to make ends meet. Morgan was still recovering from his accident, now back in St. Louis and had no idea when he would return. December came and I got a call from my friend Ereka asking me to meet her at a show in Worcester. She wanted me to see her and the band she was with so I could let her know if I was interested in having her and their drummer, Shaun, play with my band Era Nocturna when I performed to support my album “Lackluster” released that October. Initially I said I wanted to stay home because I didn’t feel well (I wanted to talk to Morgan) and Ereka bribed me with pizza and gas money. I spent the day hanging out with Ereka, Potter, Connor, Chris, Jill, and Shaun. It was a break from the digital world that I needed. The connection I felt with Ereka and Shaun was something that I’ll never forget to this day. I went home that night and I told Morgan that he had until the end of the year to step up or I was ending everything. He said he would. So I waited. 

At the end of December I met a guy who would eventually become a two year relationship that sucked away whatever Morgan had left of me. By April of 2009 I was between jobs and had no clue what I was going to do. I enrolled in medical assisting school and the new ex and I continued to see one another and when we weren’t together I was still talking with Morgan. Things had changed at that point though. He knew I was with someone and, I guess that maybe gave him the out he needed to finally tell me the truth. He said he wanted to tell me something but he was afraid of how much I would hate him when he told me what he had to say. I told him at that point there was nothing left in me that would be surprised so the guessing game began. “Are you married?” No. “Do you really live in Massachusetts?” Yes. “Are you gay?” No. “…..Are you a woman?”   ……… Yes. “Show me what you look like.” She did. “You need to meet me. Come to the Lotus in (Medway?) tomorrow.” She did. 

The “man” I had loved for five years was a 40-something year old blonde woman who stood no more than 5 feet 2 inches tall. She was attractive in a peculiar way. She was quiet, awkward, scared shitless, and her name was Cheryl. We spoke over the loud karaoke music with my friends there as back up. In hindsight I think I had made sure they were there for her protection rather than mine. I was so unsure of what I would do when the time came that I saw her. But the thing is, when I saw how small she was and how self-effacing she came across, I couldn’t find it in myself to hate her. I simply wanted to know why.

Cheryl and Dae. Salem, MA 2009

Our friendship grew over the next year and by 2010 she came to be my confidant and my closest friend. She was my refuge from my ex when he became too abusive and she listened. She was always there. But still, I waited for a reason that made sense when I asked her why she lied. Not just to me but to others. There was never a reason she gave that made any sense. How she could watch as my life crumbled around me and still carry on such a lie. How she could tell me that “Morgan” had been in an accident just days before I was going in for a heart procedure knowing that I was off the medication that would prevent me from collapsing from another cardiac episode. How she could tell me lie after lie after lie. I wanted to hate her but I couldn’t. Even if she couldn’t explain any of it to me. She just said, “I don’t know why I did it. I think I just hated myself and wanted to be somebody else.” For some reason I was able to accept that… for the time being.

Eventually, my life imploded again but only because I made it happen. Shaun, from the show in Worcester, returned after several years of no contact on my part. He asked if I still needed a drummer and I told him I did. Cheryl and I were trying to make Era Nocturna happen live. I was even going to teach her the bass. My ex (still my boyfriend at the time) was going to play guitar and we got another guy named Dorian to take over the synths on his guitar. The first month of rehearsals were a disaster but I found myself looking forward to seeing Shaun every week and our friendship grew. Soon I was talking to him on the phone and texting daily while my ex was continuing to be an alpha douchebag. The final straw came one night when I told him it was over and I needed to go take some space. As I was packing up to go somewhere, anywhere away from him he tried to take a swing at me when he blocked my way out the door. I texted Shaun and he told me to come stay with him. So I drove away trying to find some sense of safety again. Nothing made sense anymore. I’d lost my compass by that point and I was heading toward the only place left now that my own home wasn’t safe and Cheryl had begun to act extremely possessive even though she maintained she was not gay. 

When I returned from my weekend with Shaun I moved my things out of my home and went to stay with a friend. The final night I saw Cheryl was when I went to her place to have dinner and her boyfriend (now husband) began talking about the motorcycle accident he’d been in. He brought down the x-rays and I saw a spiral fracture in his right leg. My throat go tight as I relived the pain of the night I heard about the accident, the panic, the desperate search for answers. I heard the phone call in my head again. The sounds of the hospital. The weak voice. My gut ached from the realization of how twisted the whole story had been. Then I looked at her boyfriend and I asked him, “This was you? In the accident?” He appeared confused and he said, “Yeah. In 2008.” I got up and told Cheryl I had to leave and returned to my friend’s home and I replayed the last five years in my head. I realized the forgiveness I felt toward Cheryl was just denial but her boyfriend’s x-rays snapped me back into the fucked up reality that I had been lied to by a woman who had used a voice changer to talk to me on the phone and had gone to the trouble to use sound effects to make it sound like she was in a hospital. It was all one big fucking lie and it had smashed me in the face like a cannon ball. I was done. 

I stopped talking to Cheryl, stopped returning her texts, dodged emails and messages on Facebook. She insisted that I come see her so she could explain. There was nothing to explain. But she continued to insist. Finally I answered and I told her no. She snapped at that point and turned everything around on me. I was a terrible person for turning my back on her. She thought I cared. How could I promise that we would be best friends forever only to abandon her for Shaun. She hated me. On and on she went. I tried so hard not unleash on her but everything I had wanted to say came flying out all at once and I ended with telling her I wished she was dead. I meant it too. 

We had maybe one or two e-mail exchanges afterward but they were nothing short of brutal. I was unwilling to forgive her and she was unwilling to give me an answer that made sense. I think even if she tried, it still wouldn’t have made sense. Nothing made sense. But I came to be okay with that. She was the one who had to live with what she did. I moved on. 

Epilogue 

I moved in with Shaun in April of 2011. We performed live with Era Nocturna throughout 2011 and 2012. Dorian appeared with us on guitars for several shows and Ereka was our first bassist. Dorian, Ereka and I are all still friends. 

Cheryl had more than one “victim” in her charade. One by the name of Dellena who was strung along for quite some time by Cheryl’s “Morgan the Model” character. Eventually Cheryl disconnected from Dellena with no explanation. I gave her one. Another one of Cheryl’s marks was a wonderful woman by the name of Helen. We are still friends to this day, even after our incredibly contentious start. We have yet to meet but we plan to someday. I’m 100% certain she will not be a man. 

Shaun and I married in 2013 and we both still make music but we currently spend our time helping people with mental illness navigate their way toward recovery. 

Myron the cat passed away in May of 2015 at the age of 14. I like to think that he waited until I was happy to let go after having cancer for close to two years. After all, he saw me through all of this and was my secret keeper when I had no one else. 

I don’t know what else happened after Cheryl got married and I honestly don’t care.

I thank you for reading this. Please take this as a cautionary tale to learn from. If someone is stringing you along online do your research. Make them Skype with you. Make them verify themselves with a sign with your name on it. Insist that you meet. If they give you shit about photos, phone calls, anything… trust your gut and get out. Your life is a life that must be lived. Don’t waste it on smoke and mirrors. You deserve more. Don’t wait. 

With love,

Dae