An Apology To The Men That Thought I Was Their Internet Girlfriend

The first thing you need to know for certain is that I, pseudonymous Owen Astrakhan, am a dude. Very much a dude. But that is real life. The anonymity of the internet combined with some severe naivete and wishful thinking turned me into a dream girl. But that is a lie that can continue no more.

And so I now have to break it to Jerry, Ricky, Norbert, Ricky #2, Maxwell and Craig that the woman you thought was your girlfriend never was. She was I. Or I was she. She never existed. I am........sorry.

Yes I was Nella....except for you Ricky #2 to whom I always presented myself as Nancy. Because you gotta keep things fresh.

To be fair I did try and leave a rather large amount of clues regarding this.

I mean I used a fitness model named Porsche for all the pictures then explicitly told you that I spend about 12 hours a day playing video games. How in the hell was I supposed to maintain a body like that? Even the real lady, Porsche, was eventually driven into therapy by the constant need for proper exercise and diet to keep that figure.

And then there was my fluency in both Dothraki and Quenya. On its own perhaps possible but that fake itinerary clearly showed me spending almost all my time in fancy night clubs. Where the hell did you all think I learned esoteric fictional languages and when, exactly, would I have had the time? Did you really think I was bringing the A Song Of Ice And Fire books into those nightclubs when I didn't happen to have my Silmarillion on hand?

On top of all that I listed my profession as a Comic Con supermodel. I hate to tell you all this but that job doesn't really exist.

Perhaps the most obvious was my constant refrain to the grooming habits of my testicles. I mean that really should have been the end of it.

So why would I have gone through all that trouble?

Easy. On the off chance one of you would turn out to be a budding sports star my masterful hoax could potentially land me a book deal and/or reality TV show contract.

"Gee that sounds pretty cold hearted pseudonymous Owen Astrakhan," you might say. You would be right in saying it too. Hardcore catfishing is not for everyone. Here's a test: find a litter of puppies, douse them in gasoline, light on fire. Did you feel bad? If you did then this is just not the type of internet hoaxery for you. But if you felt nothing I will congratulate you on being a psychopath and suggest that maybe we could team up on a scam to fool orphans into thinking they are getting a new playground.