So Beautiful

     Wouldn’t it be amazing to be so good looking that people think you’re catfishing them? (For my parents: “Catfishing” is when one steals photos from other people on the internet and claims them as their own, constructing an alternate online identity in order to win the heart of another web-based suitor who would otherwise be “out of one’s league.”)

     My experience of online dating, however, has been consistently real, with absolutely no question being brought to the possibility that my looks may be those one would willfully select. My face screams, “I wouldn’t, like, choose this, but this is what I got!”

     There is a part of me that imagines having a catfish boyfriend as a fabulously indulgent experience, appealing in the way that eating Twizzlers Pull & Peels after every meal seems gleeful in the abstract. After all, all they do is respond quickly, tell you how amazing you are, and send you gorgeous photos of semi-nude, semi-famous Instagram personalities.

     But it is an experience that, I’d also imagine, is painfully hollow. The Catfisher must be consumed by some force of guilt, and the Catfishee must grow weaker under the weight of such willful ignorance. It’s bizarre to conceive that one person's beautiful images can set the stage for such deep interpersonal angst.

     But I have no worry that my photos are in such danger. I’m real, baby. I wouldn’t, like, choose this, but this is what I got.