(Oops! I’d somehow published this as a page rather than a post. Fixing that.)
This morning I was surprised by a note from a young man who happened across my profile and felt strongly impressed to share an inspiring quote with me. He friended me as well. I sent a note asking if we’d met; he apologized for being so forward but seemed pleased as punch that I’d replied at all. Said I seem like a very genuine, deep person, which was nice and all, but I hadn’t said anything particularly deep. Still, I thanked him and asked him more about himself. He sent an enormous list of the things he does. Apparently he’s an artist, song-writer, dancer, athlete, resident surgeon, father, a widower, an avid reader, science-geek, and a devout mormon as well. The only boy in a family of eleven girls, three of which, apparently, were part of the quadruplet set he was born into.
I was reminded of a certain first date some 15 years ago, when I giggled, “You’re a pathological liar, aren’t you?” Little did I know. With this guy I wondered, but figured I was letting the scars of the past mess with me.
I was feeling very sorry for him about the passing of his wife, and wondering how long she’d been gone (not something I wanted to ask right off, but wanted to know in case this was very recent) so I tried finding her obituary. Instead I found a page where dozens of women reported him as a scammer and shared the very same story with a few different names attached to it, not a one of them his real name.
I’d given him a link to my blog. I doubt he’ll actually take the time to read it, but, my fake friend, if you are reading this, please get some help.
Legend of Velda 