DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I’m a 45-year-old man, and I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I’ve been scammed by someone I met on a popular dating app that I won’t name because this is embarrassing enough as it is. It’s hard enough to admit that I was this stupid and it’s even harder to admit it publicly even in a place where nobody knows me, but here we are.
I met this woman on the app about six months ago. She was amazing. She was beautiful, kind, and we hit it off right away. We messaged every day, then moved to phone calls and video chats. Looking back, the video chats felt a bit off, but I brushed this off as an issue with her spotty Internet service. I didn’t think much of it at the time because I’m a digital nomad and even my portable hotspot can struggle and stutter when I have to have meetings in Zoom. We built what felt like a real connection, and she seemed so genuine. She said her employer had sent her to Turkey on a project, and that she’d be back in the US around the time that I’d be back too. We had started making plans to get together for a long romantic weekend that I had hoped would be the first of many.
Things started getting strange when she told me her bank card had been frozen. This wasn’t unusual to me, banks flag overseas transactions all the time. She was “stuck” and needed help to pay a contractor she was working with, so I sent her $500. Then it was $1,200, then another $3,000 for what she called “emergency fees.” I was hesitant at first but she promised she’d pay me back as soon as she got home, and I believed her. Before I wised up, I ended up sending her about $8,000.
Yes, I know. You can’t say anything to me that I haven’t said about myself. It should have been screamingly obvious to me. I still can’t believe I was this gullible.
The last straw was when she asked for another $5,000 for what she claimed was a “permit” to leave the country. This was my breaking point, because the other issues seemed so much more believable; she showed me screenshots of bills and warning notices from the bank and the emergencies always made sense between her job and being in remote parts of Turkey. But she got angry when I said I wasn’t sure, and then when I tried to ask her about it, she went cold. A few days later, she blocked me on everything.
I finally did some digging, and it turns out her pictures were a mix of a Russian model’s Instagram account and deep fakes. Everything she told me was a lie. Now, I feel completely humiliated. I’ve been divorced for a while, and I guess I was just so hopeful that I wanted to believe that this was real.
I haven’t told anyone about this. Not my friends, not my family. I’ve always prided myself in being too smart to fall for scams like this, even as friends of mine had been catfished. I don’t know how to move past this or even if I can trust anyone again. I’ve learned my lesson about doing my research, but how do I stop feeling like such a f--king idiot?
Thanks for reading,
Love Comes At A Cost
DEAR LVOE COMES AT A COST: You’re not stupid, LCAC, you were tricked. I want you – and everyone else who reads this – to listen to me very carefully: nobody is immune from being conned or scammed. If you haven’t been conned, it’s not because you’re smarter than everyone else, it’s because you haven’t been hit with the con that would work on you. It’s more about timing and targeting than it is about anyone’s individual smarts and street-savvy.
You were tricked by someone (or a group of someones) who pulls schemes like this all the time. They have practice and experience at it. You don’t. I know when we think of love cons and scams, we tend to think of obvious catfish incidents or the clumsy and low-effort “wrong number” pig-butchering texts that seem so glaringly transparent. How could anyone fall for those?
Well, those are obvious by design. They’re the scam equivalent of fishing with dynamite; they’re just looking for the marks that require the lowest effort. Plenty of people, on the other hand, have been tricked by fake emails purporting to be from their bank, from their ISP, their email service or their cellphone provider, or when their friend’s social media has been hacked.
It’s not that an honest man can’t be conned any more than a smart man can’t be fooled; it’s about the scammer or the con artist finding the one opening they can exploit. The scammers aren’t worried about your smarts, so much as trying to find the one moment when you’re not paying as close attention as you might be otherwise.
Or when they find you in a moment where you’re particularly hopeful and open. Like you were.
A good con artist targets the areas where people are most vulnerable for a reason. If they’re not playing on someone’s greed, they’ll play on their sense of hope or an honest desire for love and then exploit their generosity and desire to be a good and helpful person. That’s what happened here – you were trying to be generous to someone in need, someone you thought you knew. That’s not a flaw, that’s just a very s--tty person was good at what they were doing and got lucky when they found your weak spot.
I realize that this is going to feel like pouring salt in the wound, but I think this is a time when it would be a good idea to watch the documentary The Tinder Swindler on Netflix. The women that Simon Leviev conned weren’t idiots; he was telling them a story that they wanted to hear, and he told it well. He had just enough to make his story plausible – private jets, European vacations, luxury hotels and 5 star restaurants and bottle service in exclusive clubs… it all seemed incredibly real, but it was built on fraud, forgery and financed by the proceeds of his previous victims. Your scammer wasn’t going to the same lengths, but the method was very similar. They gave you enough “evidence” to ease any suspicions you had, and in an era of Photoshop, LLM-enabled chats, deepfake videos and audio, it’s easier than ever to manufacture “proof”.
Once they got you to help out once, it was that much easier to get you to “help”, again and again until you caught on. That’s a psychological quirk in everyone, not just you; it’s why the first ask is almost always significant but reasonable. If they can get you over that initial hurdle, you’re that much more likely to keep at it. You did better than many who get scammed; a lot of people get soaked for tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars. I realize keeping it to high four digits is cold comfort indeed, but it could be much worse.
It’s understandable that you feel embarrassed, but there’s no shame in being conned by a professional. This is what they do, and they’ve had way more practice at running cons than you have at spotting them. And they rely on your embarrassment to keep you silent, so more people don’t hear about the scam and they can keep pulling the same tricks.
Personally, I think it’s worth telling your family and friends what happened, if only so that they can calibrate their Spidey-sense accordingly. But I understand why you wouldn’t want to, and that’s ok. The big thing is to recognize that while this happened, it’s not a comment on your smarts, just your capacity for hope and generosity. Going forward, you’ll be a little wiser, a little more guarded, if a little slower to trust. Make sure you maintain some strong boundaries, especially when the other person hasn’t actually earned your willingness to adjust those boundaries. And going forward, I recommend my rule of thumb: until you meet in person, you’re not dating.
Good luck.
Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com