According to an April 2017 survey by Statista, online dating is only continuing to grow in popularity. On a larger scale, Time reported that the total number of Internet users has increased by 333% since 2000.
Every young person today has received the textbook, fear-instilling lecture about Internet usage, whether it be from their parent or their teachers. Be careful online, they say – that the person you’re talking to might not be real, they might want to hurt you.
With the rise in online dating, and the Pew Research Center’s 2015 report that 57% of teens have made at least two new friends online, these lectures are largely taking a backseat. We think that most scams on the Internet are easy to see through, that as long as we know not to input our credit card information to an advert claiming we’re the 999,999th visitor, we’re safe.
More than anything else, we don’t expect to be tricked on our own social media accounts. In that way, it might not be suspicious when your crush from school starts flirting with you over Snapchat. Catfishing seems something far away, impersonal, something perpetuated by greasy old men in dimly-lit rooms.
The person we’re interviewing today, with his name preserved for anonymity, is not that type. The catfish I spoke with is a college student. Sharp-tongued and confident, he has travelled around the world and speaks two languages.
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How did it begin?
Back in high school and the summer after, my best friend and I had an agreement. She was a pretty girl with fantastic boobs who loved to troll people, and I was a repressed gay high schooler in a Southern town.
There was nowhere for the hormones I had at that time to go, no way for me to really approach guys at all. So, what later became a three-person ring of catfishing an entire team of high school athletes – it all started with the guy I loved. He liked my friend, which was absolutely maddening.
So, I find myself there, dirty talking to the guy I love, who has no idea it’s me on the other end.
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Who initiated it the first time?
He had been trying to chat her up for a while, but on one Saturday night we thought we might have a little fun with him. We sent the message.
She was dating someone at the time, but our desire to get back at him for being a douche to me outweighed that. We didn’t feel bad about it.
After that first message, they flirted for at least an hour. It was a collaborative effort between her and I, since she didn’t want to go too far too fast. I, on the other hand, really have no morals or restrictions.
Eventually, when things start to heat up too much, she hands the phone to me. So, I find myself there, dirty talking to the guy I love, who has no idea it’s me on the other end. Soon enough, we get our first photo. It’s of his six pack. We’re a fan.
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What’s the end goal? Was it just to get that picture?
I guess it’s different for everyone who does it. On Grindr, people will catfish for money. But for us, it was because she loved to troll people, and I loved to see hot guys. For us – the end goal every time was to sext with them until they were done.
After that picture, we moved to Google Images to find one to reply with. We get one that could believably be her, send it over, and well-ah, our first dick pic. It was alarmingly easy.
We kept it going like that: stock photo, dirty text, dick pic. At this point, he’s still operating under the assumption that they’re gonna’ meet up in the future. So, I guess in a very passionate effort to get her to come over, he sends a video.
That was when we really felt like we’d gotten away with it. With ESPN blaring in the background, we got a precious, blurry, poorly shot video of him jacking off. If you want to base it on a film score, let’s just say the rule of thirds was not obeyed.
After this, the same guy fell for it two more times. Keep in mind that they never talked between each session.
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After him, who was next?
Her ex-boyfriend. We followed pretty much the same routine, which worked only because he never saw her naked. Either way, it was still way easier since they already had a history. They were broken up, sure, but he still intensely wanted to be with her at the time. I wanted to see his dick, and she wanted to pull one over on him.
After this, with our ever-expanding empire of nudes, we got another girl in the loop. With her, we were able to get not just the first two guys again, who were friends, but also a third person in their social group.
Ultimately, we got two or three more guys in our hometown before deciding to take our fun to the internet.
The closing is what sells the illusion that it was real.
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If it was the whole group, how did nobody end up finding out? Did any come close?
No. There wasn’t even the slightest suspicion. Every session would end with them saying, “When can we hook up?” and there was never any intention.
After they ask that, you need to find a good way to say no. You have to leave in a way that, next time you message, they’ll still be open to play the game. The closing is what sells the illusion that it was real.
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How long did it typically take to produce the result you wanted? Was there a standard introduction, a set number of snaps?
It varied based on how into it the guy was, and individual response times. It tended to take a few hours, because you had to spend a long time chatting them up first. But once it got into the meat of things, and well, actually seeing the meat, the process would go exponentially faster. We pretty much used the same routine every time – the same sort of lines, the same stock photos.
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Since you were doing the same routine all of the time, did you get bored of it?
Only a little after we had gotten a few of them a couple of times. When that happened, we moved our empire online. This was back when Omegle and other cam sites were popular, so there was just endless opportunity.
I’d be sitting in the corner basically directing my female friends on what to do to get into these guys’ heads. Once we got them far enough though, we’d reveal the illusion by turning the camera to me.
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So, clearly you don’t do this anymore, or haven’t recently. What brought it to a close?
Oh, yeah, eventually everything came crashing down. It was on an Omegle night, and we came across this really cute Canadian guy. Everything started out as usual. The only difference was that we were trying an experiment that night, to see if we could take the illusion further.
We found an app where you could create a fake phone number, so we asked him if he’d be interested in talking. Of course, he said yes. Things went fine, until they suddenly got really weird, really fast. His entire tone changed.
In a way, it was like the hunter has become the hunted.
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What was he saying?
He was getting into some weird kinky shit that was making the girl we had talking to him extremely uncomfortable. Hell, it made me uncomfortable too, and it wasn’t even directed at me. I still feel that way talking about it now.
So at that point, we decided to end the phone call. But he called back. Ended it again. He called again.
Now he was calling so often that the phone wasn’t accessible long enough for us to delete the app. So finally we just turn my phone off. We leave it that way for an hour, hoping he’s stopped, and I start thinking that I could turn it back on. He calls.
At the same time, he’s texting us through the app, and he’s being so desperate but also so creepy. In a way, it was like the hunter had become the hunted. After that experience, we decided the Omegle adventures should end.
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Do you regret catfishing at all because of that?
No. Looking back, I don’t think the current me would have been nearly as scared as I was. We never catfished an innocent boy. Something I took away from is that very few boys are.
Were we bad people? Maybe. But honestly, if you’re jacking off over Omegle, or if you’re engaging with a girl who has shown zero interest in you before, there’s gotta’ be some expectation there that something’s up.
So there’s a warning there: If the person you’re talking to seems too good to be true, they are. If there hasn’t been any buildup, or it’s out of nowhere, or from an account you don’t know – just don’t. Be smart guys.
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Would you ever catfish again?
In a heartbeat.
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The term “Catfish” originated from a 2010 documentary on the Internet phenomen
