My Pictures Are Being Used To Catfish The Fine Folks In The South Who Just Want To Get Laid

I woke up yesterday to see that my pictures are being used to catfish on Tinder. According to the guy that brought this to my attention on Twitter, I’m currently visiting lovely Memphis, Tennessee in search for a nice young man to get laid by go on a romantic date with.

I know I’m supposed to be pissed that somebody is technically stealing my identity. But I couldn’t help but feel honored. It’s not exactly the picture I would’ve used to try to get laid seeing as I took it at 1 AM after a million hours on set at the Super Bowl where my co-hosts thought I was having a meltdown because I seriously asked if I could inject that basic bitch Starbucks drink into my veins.

But imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all.

Except then I scrolled down.

THIRTY EIGHT?? WHAT THE FUCK?

Before I offend somebody, there’s nothing wrong with being 38. But I’m nearly a decade younger than 38. I may be rounding out home of my 20’s, but I’m still in my 20s nevertheless. Yet, somebody out there thinks I look 38.

(Side note: I’m now in the market for first-time Botox in NYC. Hit me up if you have any recommendations.)

After I got past the age part, I got curious about what this person said about “me” in my bio. Am I a divorcee? Am I a booze hound just looking for a one night stand? Am I looking for somebody new that both me and my kids can call “daddy”?

The possibilities were endless. I had to know. So, I slid into the DMs of the guy who tweeted it at me.

No bio? Red Flag. Barstool sweatshirt? Bold move.

How about the confidence on “Mike in Memphis” though?

(PS – “Smash” is an all-timer.)

Once I informed him that it was, in fact, not me, he followed this up with this…

While it’s clearly obvious what Mike in Memphis is doing here… between the hashtag and the subtle ego stroke, I actually kinda like this guy.

I’ve never personally been on dating apps, but I know it cuts out the “hey, can I buy you a drink?” and skips right to “let’s just go back to my place since we both know what we’re doing here.” So, the cat-fisher has missed a major opportunity here. Use better pictures of girls in bikinis. Make a convincing bio. Ask if they’d be down to meet in a bathroom at a bar. Be a real human. Do better.

In the end, I’m furious with this person. I’m furious at her (or more likely, him) for tricking people into thinking I’m just two miles away looking for a good old fashioned smash down in the deep South.

What an asshole.