The Time I Was Blackmailed on a Dating App.
And how I learned that not giving a f*ck about what others think about you is a superpower.
It was a couple of days after the new year when my phone dinged with a notification. I unlocked it and saw that I matched with someone on a dating app. I smiled involuntarily. Perhaps everyone does.
When I opened the app, I was disappointed. Just a single photo with a name. That’s it. The profile was as barren as the Atacama desert. That should’ve been my first clue.
But she messaged me her phone number. I figured it best to get on a video call and find out if she was real. If she was uninterested or a catfish, the answer would be a no, and we could all move on with our lives. No harm, no foul. A cup of hot brew awaited me either way.
So, I messaged her. She agreed to the video call after a quick hello. I checked to make sure I looked good and called her. She picked up, but the screen was black. Bad network? Ten seconds later, the call dropped. Guess it’s time for the brew. Then I got another message.
She wanted to do a video call. Topless.
Really? That’s quite bold of you, madame, especially considering I am a stranger. Guess she liked what she saw in those ten seconds. It is probably obvious to anyone that I am not thinking clearly at this point. Most likely because there wasn’t enough blood going to my brain. It was flowing in the direction of gravity. As an acquaintance used to say, while rolling her eyes — “Men!”
But in a world of quick rendezvous and even quicker goodbyes, I was not surprised. I’ve had similar experiences before, but nothing so upfront. I guess she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Love had taken a sick leave. Will be back after the holidays.
“Sure,” I replied even though a part of me told me something was off. To err is human, and at this moment, I was only too human.
The video call began again. She was topless and was doing her version of a sexy dance. And then she wanted to see me without clothes. Quid pro quo. And before you knew it, we were sharing nudes.
Little did I know that the person on the other end of the line was a scammer screen-recording the call. Five minutes later, I received the notification. It was a video. It was a screen recording of the exchange. Followed by a message. “Fuck you. Your life is ruined.”
I stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity. Then I started breathing again. I knew what I had done. I fucked up. So, I asked her, “What do you want?”
“Upload or delete?” the reply came immediately.
“Why the option?” I enquired.
“Oh, you want to be smart, huh?”
I get a screenshot. This scammer had sent the video to one of my social media contacts. Shit. The screenshots kept coming. More contacts were getting spammed.
Pure fury filled me. But I forced myself to stay cool. Yes, the emotions were strong, but I could not get emotional right now. I had to channel Gustavo Fring.
When the student is ready, the teacher appears. And life is the greatest teacher of them all.
“What do you want?” I asked again.
“Money.”
Of course. “How much is enough?”
“5000.”
I knew if I paid the 5000, then it would only escalate. As long as they had that video of me, they could keep asking for more. And I would be their puppet.
Then I paused for a second. Hold on, there is nothing inherently wrong about the video. It’s something a lot of couples share with each other regularly. It was a sign of trust and expression.
But I was the fool to trust a stranger. I had to admit that to myself first.
That I was a fool.
But without judging myself.
That’s the hard part.
Once I did, I became even calmer. The only power this person had over me was the hope that I was ashamed of my sexuality. Why should I be? Even though that is the first instinct everyone, including myself, is programmed to feel about their sexuality. I looked at the moment objectively. I zoomed out. Watched my life as a timeline.
How many times have I embarrassed myself over the years? Quite a few. Am I still standing strong? Yes. Do I still have people who love me? Yes. Have I felt like the world was ending before? Yes. Did it? No.
Last question, am I the only person who has embarrassed himself? Nah, everyone’s done it sometime.
More screenshots. Followed by expletives and threats. I got a call. I picked it up. It was a dude. He was screaming at me, threatening to go nuclear if he wasn’t paid right away.
But suddenly, somehow, I didn’t care. At this point, at least fifteen people had received the video. More would follow. I messed up. Time to go on the offensive. Time to fix it.
I cut the call.
“Where do I pay you?” I sent a message.
The guy mentioned a payment app.
“Give me your number.”
They took a while before sending me the number.
I copied the number. But instead of typing it into the payment app, I typed it into Truecaller. A second later, the name of the scammer and a photo of the guy showed up. Most likely a fake name and photo. But it didn’t matter. I took a screenshot. Then, I took screenshots of the threats and the most egregious expletives from the chat.
It was time to take control of the situation. I dropped a message on my story about what happened so that everyone who got the video would be informed. Then, I posted the screenshots and the Truecaller details so everyone could see how the perpetrators moved.
I knew the guy was reading my stories because the messages stopped. So, I added a message for him, “To the guy who is doing this, you cannot hurt me. Be a better human being.” I meant it.
Minutes later, my DMs were filled with friends asking me if I was alright.
It was funny because when I received the first threat, I thought people would judge me. They probably did. But I realised that was exactly what the scammers were relying on. Shame. Once I let it go, I could be vulnerable publically, without fear. And that vulnerability was met with love and support.
I told them that I was doing fine. I was. They were surprised. So was I. They thought I would be a mess. But I was not. I was filled with confidence earned from willingly walking into the line of fire.
A friend called to check on me. He was worried. But five minutes later, we were laughing about a funny story. Funny how my lack of fear and defensiveness was contagious.
Later, I discovered from a friend that this scam had been going on for a while. A few victims ended up losing their savings, and others even worse. I realised that once I took ownership of my mistake, I became immune. I didn’t consider myself a victim, and that’s why they could not hurt me.
“Only a fool learns from his own mistakes. The wise man learns from the mistakes of others.”
— Otto von Bismarck
I hesitated before publishing this article. But then I stared at the title and realised that I had to.
We feel shame. Whether with friends, family, strangers on the road or strangers on the internet. We are concerned with what others think of us. Maybe it is genetically programmed from our tribal ancestors. I don’t know. But if it is, how’s that working out for you?
Caring about what others think about you is like being Superman and carrying a piece of kryptonite in your pocket.
Let it go and embrace your superpower.
If you learn anything from my stupidity, it is this — we all make mistakes, but we are not mistakes.
