Catfish
I got catfished once in Positano, Italy.
I have a habit of taking solo trips to destinations chock-full of honeymooners. As a single gay man, it drives me insane. I don’t know why I repeatedly torture myself.
I was laying in my bedroom in the actual medieval castle I was staying in. I was morosely checking Grindr when a message arrives from a particularly appealing profile of a headless torso.
My first message to men with beautiful headless torsos on Grindr is usually, “Hi…have a face pic?” As much as I can be turned on by a six-pack and a swell body, I’m all about that face.
But with this guy, I recognize him from his torso. I recognize the torso. I recognized it because this guy is US gay porn star Colby Jansen (that’s his Twitter link and NO it is not safe-for-work).
Colby sports a distinct tattoo on his left shoulder — I could pick it out from a line-up. Which I basically did. Instantly, I think:
This is a gay porn star, completely out of my league.
We are both vacationing in Europe.
Surely, he is just looking for a fellow American hook-up.
I am that hook-up. This is my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
We trade messages and more pics. He gives me his name — it’s not his real name, of course; no, I intuit that as a ‘famous person,’ he must keep his identity incognito. He’s relatively close to me, in nearby Naples, which I will be traveling thru on my way to Rome. We arrange a meet-up for the next day. Success!
I shoot an email bragging about my upcoming celebrity hook-up to my gay friends in NY. They reply with four words, “You are being catfished.”
The idea that someone could pose with a famous porn star’s photos…that someone would have the audacity to do so? It didn’t even cross my mind.
I go on Colby’s Instagram and see a photo of him adopting a puppie in Poughkeepsie, NY from three days ago.
Is it possible he adopted the dog and then immediately went on vacation?
To be sure, I visit his Twitter. In his bio it reads, “I don’t have Scruff/Grindr/Jackd or any other hook up app.”
So. The gig is up, my adventure is ruined, and I realize I almost walked into a trap laid for me by some guy in Naples who would have almost assuredly robbed me or worse.
I accuse the poser on Grindr of all this and never hear from him again.
The moral of the story is: Naples is a rat-city full of lying, catfishing homosexuals, and I need to check my ego.
Also, I recommend the movie: Catfish.