I went online for love. Instead, I met a scammer

FRIENDS encouraged me to sign up to Tinder. I decided to give it a go and met ‘Jeremy’, who seemed genuine at first, writes Leanne Croker. It didn’t take long for that to change.

THE challenges of being a single woman living on her own are many: doing up zips at the back of a dress; unblocking a toilet so you don’t have to pay hundreds of dollars for a plumber; finding a decent, interesting and available man.

I can manage the first two but the third one has escaped me.

That’s where the matchmaker of the 21st century comes in: online dating, now a perfectly acceptable way of finding a partner and one which friends and acquaintances have used with a great deal of success. Not so me.

I have gone through the time-consuming process on eHarmony, where you have to answer questions galore so they can match you with the man of your dreams. The result? Me feeling very dowdy and disheartened with not even a whiff of a potential relationship. Then there was match.com, where I did meet a lovely man (not quite the man of my dreams but close enough to give it a go). That led to a rather tumultuous relationship, which ended when he found someone else online to date. More recently I tested the waters at Plenty of Fish, not realising it was known as a site for “intimate encounters” — that was made clear after a coffee with one man who wanted to sleep with me after “hello”. I quickly closed down that profile.

Sometimes a quick coffee date isn’t what it seems. (Pic: iStock)

One site I had steered clear of was Tinder, thinking it was all about sex, which is certainly on my list of must-haves but not the only thing I’m after. Reassured by friends, and my hairdresser, that Tinder is more than a pick-up bar on steroids, I decided to give it a go. A picture was uploaded, basic details given and the little flame icon appeared on my smartphone screen — I could start swiping right (he’s got potential) or left (not a snowball’s chance in hell).

Of course, the first thing we see is a picture and yes, men out there, we are judging you on your looks (just as I know you are judging me on mine and, as I am nowhere near a Victoria’s Secret model nor a lithe yoga lover, I am sure many of you swiped left). A safe first comment when you have swiped right is along the lines of “I like your smile”, translation: you look cute/as though you have a job/you aren’t trying out for a role in Magic Mike/you aren’t a criminal. If you get that far, basic information is then exchanged as you try and figure out if this person is worth meeting, if not more.

Daily notifications and pictures of what seemed to be hundreds of men led to me meeting and subsequently turning down one man who seemed to be the perfect match. Let’s call him Jack (not his real name). Jack was a lawyer, had similar beliefs and thoughts on life to mine, enjoyed the theatre. He even chose the perfect film for our first, and last, date. But I had to be honest, with myself and him, and suggest that he would make a great friend — I haven’t seen or heard from him since.

Then there was Jeremy (this is the name he used but probably not his real name as I am pretty sure he wasn’t a real man — or at least not the man he said he was). He did have a lovely smile and we both swiped right. He asked for my number straight away (apparently this is when alarm bells should have started ringing). I said no; I wanted to know a bit more first.

A nice smile is a winner when swiping through online dating profiles, but it takes time to get to know someone. (Pic: iStock)

A few questions with what seemed to be appropriate answers later and I gave him my number so we could chat on WhatsApp. We exchanged pictures of our families (he had two children and was divorced) and information about our lives (he was an architect and lived in Bondi). It all sounded reasonable and he was attractive, so I took him at his word (not taking into account Google maps nor the capacity to take someone else’s images from the web).

We both loved travelling and he was due to go to Dubai soon. It was at that point a slight sound of alarm bells started at the back of my mind — when on eHarmony, one man I had been chatting with was an engineer (apparently a standard occupation for online scammers) and he had to go overseas to pitch for a job. Once there, he called me up to say he’d been mugged and asked if I could send him some money. That wasn’t going to happen, nor was any further communication.

But “Jeremy” seemed to be genuine. He said all the right things about wanting a relationship — he even liked anchovies. Then one day he told me he’d dropped his phone in the water — it wasn’t working so he couldn’t call me (those alarm bells were a little louder now). And he was very busy on a project that was due to finish soon but I was assured we would meet after that. I understand the pressure of deadlines and so fell for this excuse even though all the advice is to meet up as soon as possible. But two weeks in, there was still no sign of a coffee date let alone a phone call (patience wearing thin and alarm bells jangling). Then there was a request for a sexy picture (those bells went off totally). I said no; I needed to feel safe and couldn’t with a man whose voice I hadn’t heard. Reassurances followed with a message: “Sure, I will take you on a surprise when I will call you”. Clearly, he had to go off script at that stage and his English wasn’t quite up to any variations. No surprises that I never heard from Jeremy again. Left feeling as though I must have a target on my forehead, if not my heart, I decided to close down my Tinder account with no plans for trying any other dating sites at the moment.

Don’t get me wrong, I am glad I had another go at finding a partner online — nothing ventured, nothing gained, or so they say. And, yes, there was sex, quite good sex actually, with a man who had potential. But clearly sex is all it was. So, no happy ending, but no sad ending either. I am still sharing my bed with my cat rather than another person, but my bank balance is intact (what little there is of it) as is my heart, and I have learnt another lesson in love — you’ve got to be prepared to spend a lot of time looking for it and be ready to say no when it’s not what you expected.

Leanne Croker is a freelance writer.