Pulling myself together, I sort through the emails my editor sent. My deadline for the column is tomorrow. And I am a punctual person; never late. Everything I turn in always perfect, no typos, no awkward sentences. Perfect, is my editor’s most common response. As ever.
I’m not going to let a breakup derail me.
I do what I always do. I print up the letters Liz has sent. I make a stack, close my eyes, and shuffle, picking at random. Then I start to read.
Dear Birdie,
I am a widow. My husband, the love of my life, died four years ago. And at the behest of my children, I recently started dating again. I have to be honest, at first I was just going through the motions. I think we only get one great love in our lives and I’ve already had mine. But my kids worry that I’m lonely, so they set me up on one of those dating apps. I’m still youngish, attractive enough—I think. I went on a couple of dates. But, no. Is it me? Or have people just become boring, self-involved, empty? I thought it was a lost cause.
But then I met someone. Someone smart, funny, kind—he made me laugh. He made me feel something. I felt like I could be myself with him. I felt something I haven’t in a while—hope that there was still time for love.
But then, one night, he called me and said he was in trouble. He traveled for his work, and he was stranded overseas. He’d been robbed, lost his wallet. He was in the hospital. Could I wire some money? I did, of course. We’d been seeing each other for a while; he was always a gentleman, very generous with gifts. He always paid for everything. I didn’t hesitate. I thought the sum was high, but I’m financially comfortable and I knew he’d pay me back.
I guess you know where this is going. He disappeared. Once I wired the money, I never heard from him again. All of his online profiles disappeared, even the one on the dating app. His phone was disconnected. I went to what I thought was his house. It was an Airbnb. He never lived there.
I’m so ashamed. How could I be so stupid? Of course, I didn’t call the police. Or tell my children. I mean, what a fool! I went online. This is such a common scam, and I, a lonely, financially secure widow, am the most common type of mark. But now the world seems so dark, and I feel so alone. His lies. I believed every single one. I did tell my best friend, and she thinks I should pursue it. Call the police. Hire a private detective. She wants me to “take my power back.” Whatever that means. But I feel so hopeless and sad. I’d rather just try to forget. Dear Birdie, should I track him down or just put this behind me?
Sincerely,
Forever Alone?
Funny how the universe works, isn’t it? Many times, the letter I choose has some connection to something I’m grappling with in my own life, at least figuratively. But this one hits a little too close, and I feel a rush of anger on behalf of this woman.
Dear Forever Alone,
First, you’re no fool. Those of us who take a chance on love are brave and hopeful. Love hurts; sometimes the loss and disappointment can be truly crushing—which you clearly know. I think you are a hero for trying to get out there again after your husband’s passing. Many people after experiencing loss just close themselves off to love. But not you! You marched bravely into the fray. And please don’t give up. While there are many scam artists and predators out there, of course, there are many more good and honest folks who want the same thing you do—friendship, companionship, a little romance. So—don’t give up!
Yes, the sweetheart scam is a common one. And you are certainly not alone in having fallen for it. Unfortunately, it’s the good and openhearted people, those with the most to give, who are the most vulnerable. Because they think everyone is as honest as they are. This man—he’s a coward and fool. And beyond that—he’s a criminal. I think I know what your friend means when she says she wants you take your power back. And I agree. I think you should file a report with the police at the very least. And if you are so inclined, and have the means, I think you should hire someone to track him down. We have a private detective to whom we can refer you, no charge. It might not be possible; con artists tend to be very good at covering their tracks. But it might be a worthy exercise. And in the best case you might get some justice and prevent him from robbing someone else—of their money and their hope for finding love.
Stay strong. Stay hopeful. True love is out there waiting for you.
With warmth and respect,
Birdie
When I’m done with my letter, I polish it, rework it, think about it a bit more. A tweak here, there. As I hit Send, a sigh moves through my body, a kind of release. I feel much better than I did before. Which is often the case, and very much why I started doing this in the first place. I am also imbued with a sense of purpose, my own words ringing back to me.