I Fell For A Catfish Who Scammed Me Out Of Thousands Of Dollars

By Susan M. Sparks

I hit thumbs up when “Patrick” came up as a match.

His profile only contained two blurry photos, but he appeared to be attractive, smiling right through to me while riding a motorcycle, and squinting slightly in the sun in another close-up.

In contrast to the previous matches I’d made on this dating site, he was ready to contact immediately away. I grimaced a little when I saw his grammar problems in the first few texts, but it didn’t matter because we were soon on the phone.

His gruff voice didn’t match his elegant demeanor in images, yet it was nonetheless captivating. He was really interested in me and asked a lot of questions about me, which I found nice. I informed him that I was just divorced and had two children. I used to have a cool little red convertible that I enjoyed driving around the lake in. I worked as a freelance writer on a variety of projects.

I could have been a tad arrogant.

The divorce, two children, and small red convertible were all genuine, but I had recently lost my 9-5 job and was barely scraping by.

A regular work was more important to me than a relationship.

Instead of addressing the agony of a failing marriage and an unexpected job loss, I was relying on a fabricated cloud of optimistic thinking to get me through. But I kept it a secret from Patrick. I was on a self-imposed mission to become an unstoppable, successful, and independent woman, and I was attempting to change my thinking and recite affirmations to bring wonderful things into my life. One of those positive things, I had thought, would be a new boyfriend.

My discussions with Patrick were light and breezy. I thought him to be engaging and witty, with a sense of exotic mystery, the more we talked.

He was American, yet he spoke with a mild British accent, not the Milwaukee lilt that he claimed he was born and raised in. He enjoyed playing snooker. I had no idea what that was; all I knew was that it was some sort of billiards game. All of the guys in my neighborhood play pool. I didn’t frequent bars or pool rooms when I was younger, but it seemed interesting.

Patrick informed me that he owned a petroleum marketing company with equipment waiting to clear customs on a wharf in another country. I wasn’t paying attention to his story’s zigzagging. I was simply enjoying the attention.

I played hard to get. Even though it had been years since I dated, I wasn’t going to be the pursuer, so I usually waited for him to phone or contact me, which he did often. “Hello, lovely,” he’d remark, which was delightful to hear.

Even so, he took a long time to react the few times I contacted him. He’d always excuse himself by saying he’d been busy. When he called, though, he always indicated he was looking forward to speaking with me again. And, despite the fact that he lived only an hour away, he said he couldn’t meet in person. He was getting ready for a big trip overseas and wanted to make sure everything went smoothly with customs.

I thought if Patrick really wanted to see me as badly as he said did, we would at least meet for a quick cup of coffee. That didn’t seem like too much to ask, did it? “I can’t wait to meet you in person, and it will be for more than just a cup of coffee, but this whole mess came up so quickly,” he soothed. “I’m afraid you won’t wait for me ― you’re such a smart and intriguing woman.”

I had a hunch this wasn’t going anywhere, and my interest in this romance was starting to fade. Suddenly the conversation switched to him wanting my help with his business while he was away, mainly answering his emails and calls. I was interested again. I wasn’t sure if we would end up being lovers, but I could use the extra income and he agreed to my high hourly rate. He said he would forward all his calls and emails to me once he was at the airport.

The following Saturday afternoon, Patrick called me with a panicked, desperate tone to his voice. He’d dropped and shattered his laptop at London’s Heathrow airport and didn’t have time to get a new one before his connecting flight left.

So, what did I do? You guessed it. I agreed to help him. I still can’t pinpoint what hypnotic power compelled me to purchase that MacBook with my own money, take it to the FedEx store and ship it to Nigeria. I even sent a little card along with it that read, “Hang in there.”

Had he told me he was going to Nigeria? Maybe? I realized I hadn’t paid attention to the exact details of his trip.

Then I got another desperate call. Now he needed something to schmooze the customs agent who was holding up his equipment at the dock. An unlocked iPhone ought to do it, he said.

“How about a good bottle of Scotch?” “Do you have any nice cigars?” I inquired.

His tone abruptly altered. “That’s ludicrous!” exclaims the speaker.

I suddenly didn’t feel like he thought I was such an intelligent, fascinating woman.

Yes, I did send the phone after he received the computer.

Now I know what you’re thinking, because I’m thinking the same thing! But, no matter how many times I repeat those discussions in my head or ask myself what happened to me, I can’t come up with an answer. It’s as if I overlooked all the red flags that were waving in front of me like a scammer’s hometown parade.

I don’t consider myself to be naive. I’ve seen enough “Dr. Phil” episodes where women admit to sending their life savings to a distant paramour while family members sigh and click their tongues, saying, “Don’t you see?”

I, on the other hand, did not. Not until I asked him a second time when he would reimburse me as he had promised: “I’ll write you a check for everything and extra as soon as I get back,” he said.

“I don’t consider myself naive.” ‘Dr. Phil’ episodes where ladies admit to sending their life savings to a distant paramour as family members sigh and click their tongues, saying, ‘Don’t you see?’ “However, I didn’t.”

Days went by. There were no calls. There were no responses. My texts have gone unanswered. Damn, I realized, I’d been duped.

The worst part was having to report it to the cops. It’s easier to deal with humiliation on your own. You are free to disregard it. Make sense of it. But more than my pride, my financial account was aching, and I needed to get that money back.

When the officer who responded to my call told me there was little he could do, he was kind and compassionate. Despite efforts to locate him, “Patrick” remained untraceable. I submitted a complaint with the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) online. I reported him to the dating service, but all it did was promise to blacklist him and return my $19.95.

Only after the incident did I discover about Google’s reverse photo search, which lets you upload a photo and see where else it’s been used on the internet, as well as other ways to spot a scammer. Is there anything about the individual in question that seems too good to be true? Check. Do they have profile photographs that are small or grainy? Check. Is the romance heating up a little too quickly? Check. Is the person constantly too busy or too far away to meet up with you? Check. Are they requesting money or high-value things such as electronics? Check.

Only after this debacle did I realize that there are dozens of persons in internet cafes throughout the world juggling multiple sweethearts over the phone, swindling rent and grocery money from lonely, kindhearted ladies. And it was only after all of this that I realized I wasn’t alone. In 2020, internet dating scammers stole $304 million, according to the Federal Trade Commission. “It has increased more than fourfold since 2016,” the FTC noted earlier this year, citing a 50 percent spike since 2019.

I’m still perplexed as to how I could have been so easily duped. I ignored the nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right. I put it down to a lack of dating experience and a lack of confidence.

I never informed anyone, not even my family or close friends, about what had occurred to me. It was simply too humiliating. But I’ve decided to write about it now in a very public way because if it happened to me and so many other people, it may happen to you as well. No, seriously. Even if you don’t believe it, it never hurts to hear another story and spend another minute to do everything you can to avoid being scammed. And it’s possible it won’t be on a dating website. Perhaps someone will try to con you in another way. The key takeaway is to follow your intuition and do some research if something looks fraudulent or too good to be true.