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Pretty soon, I was caught up in the hype of being with a man who found me irresistible. Then he began to change. He wormed his way into not only my life, but my finances. By the time I realized he wasn’t who he said he was, I was in too deep. He broke things off, citing our relationship wasn’t working for him anymore. He left me devastated and also ten thousand dollars poorer.

He used me.

But I wasn’t going down without a fight. I went after him. It didn’t take long to realize everything was a lie. His name, occupation, address. Nothing was real.

There’s no other way to describe him than a con-artist. Three other women, in similar situations, had met and fallen for the same man I did who they knew as Bob, Matt, and Kevin. I found them through a chat group, discussing being scammed from online predators. Their stories were similar enough that I reached out personally. We all had the same profiles: middle aged, divorced, and had substantial money. He ‘phished’ us from different dating sites.

These women have become my friends. We’ve bonded over our humiliation. Now, we’re angry. Between the four of us, he swindled over sixty-thousand dollars, lavish gifts, and several extravagant trips.

Another thing we have in common, we stupidly trusted him in all ways, including sexual relations. He has videos and pictures of us in compromising positions and situations. Each of us approached him, via email, phone, text—all demanding our money be returned and we wouldn’t seek legal action. We threatened going to the police. He counter-threatened us; either we back off, or he goes viral.

Then he eliminated our ways of communication. Stupidly, we can’t find him any longer. He is a master at hiding his true identity.

We all have enough shame already, but this type of scandal would affect us in irreparable ways. So, we decided to come to you.

It’s not even about the money anymore. We can’t allow him to continue this con.

Honestly, Stacy isn’t even my real name, but hopefully, knowing the whole story will help you understand I’m not irrational.

Regards,

Stacy

“What a fucking lying-ass, shithead, prick!” Maren seethes.

“It’s not uncommon, Maren. You know this. It’s a decade old scam.”

“Yes, but it still grinds my ass. He deserves a taste of his own medicine.”

“How do you suggest we do that? It’s not like we can walk up to him and demand he hand over the explicit photos.”

“I suggest we lure him in and find our own damning evidence. Put his ass to shame.”

At the phrase lure him in, my stomach rolls. “You aren’t suggesting—”

“Yes, we’re going to trap him. Beat him at his own game.”

My stomach roll turns into an all about lurch. I groan and throw my head back to the headrest. “Absolutely not! I draw the line at online dating.”

“But you’re the one with all the experience!”

“Once, Maren. Once! I tried it once, and if you remember, it was so bad I swore I’d never, ever do it again.”

“But you don’t have to do it. We’ll make up a fake profile.” She uses air quotes on the word ‘you’.

“Fake or not, I don’t want to be a part of any of that ever again. Don’t you remember the clinger?”

“He wasn’t that bad.”

“He was awful! No.”

“I think you should reconsider. This could be good for us.”

“NO!”

“Fine! I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it?”