Bow-fishing

I have to start my admitting a few items that some see as faults, mainly the first one.

1: I do not follow sports. It's not that I don't enjoy sporting events, the uniforms that athletes wear or anything else that gets people fired up. I don't have the attention span, eidetic memory, or passion that others may have. 
2: I am not in a relationship and am not "actively" seeking one, whatever that means. Therefore, my advice is likely a moot point, my apologies, but I'm still weighing in on things because I'm 'Murican and that's how we do. 
3: Writing this blog is probably going to be the nail in the coffin for my forever singledom. Thank goodness Often Annoyed Designer and I are already concocting an open marriage so I don't need to fret. 

Now that those items have been addressed, I can begin. However, please note that #3 has very little to do with anything -- just word vomit mostly. 

A girl that I've been lucky to consider a friend is more of the "big-city," style (also doesn't mesh with with cornfields despite the fact that she literally lives in one) and had signed up for one of the dating apps that are far more common in larger cities.  She is far more brave than I and always wants to give love a chance. Despite the atrocious things that have hurt her, she continues to have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Like, SCARY big. She is accepting, a wonderful mother, a sweet friend and a blast to spend time with. Let's call her Cherry, as a lot of people do on accident. A few years ago, my sister and I were discussing her and how she is 100% "the complete package," that every male dreams of: intelligent (we went to college together, duh), naturally gorgeous, the standard Midwestern values and work ethic, and -to top it off- possibly the most stunning voice. Her voice is what would happen if Katy Perry, Adele and Sara Bareilles had a savant-baby girl. As any reader can tell, she is my lady crush and I am now getting off topic. 

Back to bow-fishing. Cherry was on a popular dating site and we thought she had finally struck gold with her recent match, David. I have to say that Cherry and I are very similar in dating, which is why I think that online or long-distance "relationships," are IN-THEORY a good fit for the two of us. She and I are both independent and value our own time or with friends. That, and we both have a habit of falling hard and falling fast so distance allows for slowing that process down. 

This guy seemed wonderful. He was in the tech business (us psych nerds can't wrap our heads around that industry so vagueness is appreciated) and traveled a lot.  Cherry was swept away by his love for his family and dog, worldliness and sensitive personality. Obviously, did I even need to say that? They spoke via email, text, and the phone constantly for almost two months. David said he was falling in love with her and wanted to meet her in Chicago the weekend following Labor Day. Cherry felt the same and arranged for someone to cover her shifts over that weekend so she would be free. She was telling me about this over lunchtime margaritas on a Monday. Cherry's enthusiasm was contagious and I could feel the butterflies in her stomach. 

Fast forward three days: I'm on facebook at my girlfriends house after an eight mile run at 1 in the afternoon during a heat advisory. I thought I was suffering from a mild heat stroke when I read her recent post. Cherry updated that the man she's been seeing (figuratively, of course) was in a car accident while texting her. I can't imagine the way she must be feeling ; confused, sad, guilty, and upset. I text her that I love her and to remind her to call me if she needs anything. A couple of hours later, I leave the pool and I'm feeling a bit tipsy from my amazing combination of a great time, cocktails and the 105 heat advisory. I check my phone and see that Cherry had lit it up with one message:

Fuck lady. I've been catfished. It's a lie. 

Followed by another, which is also why I love her:

I'm getting drunk as shit tonight!! What are you doing?

I give her a quick call since I'm making a conscious effort to avoid the whole texting and driving thing...even though my amazing car will be useless in about three weeks. Because I'm scheduled to work that night, I tell her that I can't pour shots of tequila down her throat, as we usually do, but instead can offer a safe ride to and from downtown. She goes on to describe the elaborate way that this skumbag lied to her and how he's still going with the prank, despite the obvious redfalgs: stock photos from Google, conflicting information, etc. 

I want to slap her and kiss her at the same time, probably because we're so similar. The amazing thing about this woman is that she sees the best in anyone for no reason. Sure, there were red flags before -- which we discussed at lunch because I'm the type of friend to bring those things up-- but Cherry moved past them. 

And that's why we suck and are stuck with the same obviously fucked up dating pattern: one socially awkward loser after self-absorbed asshole after pseudo-stalker at a time. In the days since this whole thing came to light, I've thought about a lot of things; mainly why I date men that are not good for me, but also, why the hell is it called catfishing?!?! I may be from the Midwest and I know a lot of people that are into fishing, but I am certainly not. The only thing fishing is good for is being on a boat with a beer. But if you're on a boat, you don't need an excuse to have a Shock Top in hand, so a fishing pull is redundant anyway. 

I have gone Bow-Fishing though. Never heard of it? You shoot a fish, I believe a carp? I'm not sure. But you shoot it with a bow and one would expect the water to fill with blood like a True Blood vampire immediately being staked in the back. The fish vanishes instantly in the blood until ripped out of the water by the bow. 

I wish, that would be so badass. But no, the fish thrashes around in confusion and pain while the redneck holding the bow yells and grunts like the "manly," Midwesterners 'round here do. The fisher is likely wearing a ratty cutoff made from a high school sports tshirt and probably drops his Pabst Blue Ribbon and homemade deer jerky stick in the excitement, just so you get the full visual. 

The painful movements are evolved from a fishie going about his evening, looking for food and headed over to a friends to hang out and talk about the latest events in his life and then being ripped out of his surroundings, pulled out of his comfort zone and then laughed at. This is probably how Cherry felt as this douche with so many mental and emotional pain was messing with her mind. Why do people find joy in tricking others into a fake relationship? Because they're disgusting human beings that were turned into that by even worse people or events. And this is why I think that bowfishing is a far better analogy for catfishing. Catfishing = relatively relaxing summertime activity that is harmless to the fish because everyone throws the catfish back since they're nasty anway. Bowfishing = violent, painful and takes a lot more effort with a lot less booze. 

I hope that asshole David reads this and knows that I will come for him.