The woman who claimed Ashley was her abuser responded to my tweet about the catfishing podcast, Sweet Bobby, saying we needed to talk. The last time I had heard from her was in October, six months earlier. Back then, I asked Ashley who she was, and Ashley erupted on me in our hotel room, denying that she knew her.
My tweet about Sweet Bobby had been bothering Ashley all day. And now the dots were connecting: Ashley had known this woman would respond, and didn’t want me to know whatever she had to say. I had cast my tweet out only to have the mystery woman bite my hook.
I hadn’t even known I was fishing.
We drove in silence back to the cabin. Everything, even the air, felt heavy, as if Ashley already knew the woman had tweeted at me and was waiting for me to bring it up.
I said nothing.
I plugged my car into the charger at the cabin while Ashley built a fire. I opened a fancy bottle of Pinot Noir I was saving for an emergency and poured myself a glass. I sat down at the kitchen table to work on the David Bowie puzzle I had brought.
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Ashley’s energy was dark. I could almost see the black aura surrounding her like a swarm of flies. My phone lit up with a notification. The woman had sent me a private message.
I opened it.
“It’s funny you tweeted about the catfishing podcast because your girlfriend Ashley catfished me for more than a year. She’ll probably deny it, but I have proof if you want it.”
I shuttered, feeling my organs twist around each other like a duvet cover in the dryer.
Ugh.
I glanced at Ashley. She was dousing lighter fluid on the fire. I re-read the message, focusing on the most jarring parts: Ashley catfished me. I have proof. If you want.
Yes, I want.
I sat, paralyzed at the table, for what felt like several minutes. Who the fuck was I dating? Ashley stood over the fire, stabbing it with an iron rod.
“That woman Michelle just sent me a message on Twitter,” I said. “She said that you catfished her for more than a year. Is that true?”
Ashley turned to look at me, still holding the iron prong. Her brown eyes dimmed all the way to black. The fire boomed behind her and I swear it looked like the Devil himself was standing in front of me.
“What the fuck did I tell you about questioning me?” She said, “Didn’t I tell you that if you brought her up again I would end things? I’m not fucking dealing with this bullshit.”
“I need you to be honest with me Ashley. Did you catfish her? Because she says she has proof.”
Ashley bent the iron rod in half and threw it at the front door.
“I don’t know this fucking woman,” she grew louder, “I already told you she’s Cecelia’s friend! They’re trying to ruin my life! Now, pack up your fucking shit and get the fuck out of this cabin!”
Ashley stormed in my direction. I’d never seen her move so fast. She reminded me of a football player charging the other team. I stood up, not knowing if she was going to try and hurt me, but knowing she had more power if I was seated.
She shoved me against the wall behind me and gripped my forearm with both hands. She twisted my skin, her grip so tight, I could feel it juicing the marrow from my ulna.
“I said I don’t fucking know her! She’s lying!” she screamed in my face.
“Let go of me, Ashley, get your fucking hands off of me.”
She flung my forearm and raced to the front door, opening it wide before slamming it shut without leaving.
“Respond to this woman right the fuck now! Tell her I need her fucking phone number and address because I’m gonna sic my fucking lawyers on her! This is slander! This is defamation! I’ll fucking destroy her!”
“Ashley, I don’t feel safe right now. You need to leave immediately.” I was calm and stern, to balance out the atmosphere. I felt a lump in my throat like I wanted to cry and scream and teleport to any other place in the world that wasn’t here. My hands started shaking at the thought of having to call 911. I didn’t even know where we were.
“I will NOT!” she screamed. Ashley slammed the front door again, picked up a bench in the mud room, and flipped it over. Perci shot up from the living room floor and cowered behind me. My baby.
“I need you to leave Ashley, you are scaring us.”
“Nobody’s fucking leaving,” she said as she locked the door.
I darted to the stairs and ran up. Ashley was close behind me.
I was stronger than Ashley, and we both knew that. She’d never worked out a day in her life. But strength doesn’t matter when you’re being attacked by a psychopath.
“Leave me alone!” I said, holding my arm out to distance her, “Do not touch me, I will call the police!”
I put my suitcase on the bed, never once taking my eyes off Ashley. I tossed in all my things. Ashley picked the suitcase up and dumped it onto the floor. She kicked my belongings around, scattering them across the room.
“This needs to stop, Ashley. This is not okay. You need to rethink how you’re acting right now.”
“You want to believe this fucking person’s lies! Write her back right now! I’m calling my lawyers to send a cease and desist, so get her fucking information!”
Ashley stomped down the stairs, screaming in tongues the entire time.
I picked my suitcase up again and threw in whatever I could.
I hoped the ring camera on the front door worked, just in case it recorded her yelling, slamming the door, and being violent.
Evidence if things got worse.
I found Perci hiding under the dining table.
Ashley stood in front of the door again and plopped down to her knees. She rolled her fists into balls and began punching herself in the head.
“What the fuck are you doing Ashley, stop hitting yourself!”
It looked like she was having a fistfight with a ghost that only she could see.
I ran over and grabbed her wrists to stop her from bashing her own skull.
She started breathing heavily and panting.
Her breaths shortened and she rocked back and forth on the floor.
“I can’t breathe,” she said. “I can’t breathe. I’m going to die. I can’t breathe.”
“I’m calling your Mom,” I said.
“NO!” Ashley shouted. “Stop calling my parents, you don’t know them! You don’t know what my mom’s like! You don’t know the real her!”
“She has to come get you,” I said, knowing the drive from Bakersfield to Big Bear would be at least five hours.
“I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t get air.”
“Then I’m calling an ambulance,” I said.
“NO!” she said and knocked my phone out of my hand, sliding it across the floor.
I stood over Ashley as she rhythmically rocked her body.
I stayed long enough to make sure she caught her breath and wouldn’t suffocate. Then I walked across the room, picked up my phone and bag, and grabbed Perci’s leash.
“You can’t leave me,” Ashley cried. “You can’t abandon me!”
“I’m not abandoning you. You’re acting really scary and I need out.”
“Don’t leave me,” she sobbed. “Please don’t leave me, you’re all I have left. My kids were taken away from me and you believe this woman over me. Please write her back, please write her back. She doesn’t have any evidence because she’s lying to you.”
“You’ve lied to me all year, Ashley.”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been honest about everything. I lied about my grandparents, but that’s it. Everything else is true. I will never lie to you again. Please don’t leave me.”
“Why is this woman saying you catfished her then? I won’t care if you did something stupid in your past, I just want to know the truth.”
“I don’t know her. She’s lying. She doesn’t have evidence because it never happened.”
Ashley’s phone lit up on the floor next to her. She got a Bumble notification.
“Are you seriously back on Bumble?” I said, losing every ounce of empathy I had left for her.
“I’m not on fucking Bumble!” Ashley yelled back.
“You literally just got a Bumble notification on your phone, I fucking saw it!”
“No, I didn’t, do you want to go through my phone?!” The last few times she challenged me to go through her phone I declined since I didn’t want to invade her privacy. But now she could go fuck herself.
“Yeah, I do. Give it to me,” I said, out-stretching my hand.
She wasn’t expecting that.
“Fine,” she unlocked her phone and started frantically deleting messages.
“What are you doing? Give me your phone, I see you deleting texts.”
Her hands moved furiously across the screen. Swiping. Deleting. Text message after text message.
Who were these women? Where did they come from?
This explained why she always put her phone in airplane mode, so I wouldn’t see the notifications. She was on her phone all the time, and I always assumed she was texting Cecelia about the kids since she didn’t have any friends.
Nope. She was texting women she found on dating apps.
“I’m not deleting anything! I’m literally writing my Dad back about slavery,” she said, quickly flashing the screen at me.
“The fuck are you talking about, I’m literally watching you delete everything!”
“Here,” she said, handing me her phone. “I’m not doing anything.”
I looked down at the screen and before I could open her text messages, she yanked her phone back.
“This is over, Ashley,” I said. “I’m gonna go back to LA and fuck someone new by this time tomorrow. You’re a sick fuck.”
I knew she couldn’t handle the thought of me with another woman, and I wanted her to self-combust.
“Nooooooooooooo!” She howled.
“And I’m gonna respond to Michelle.”
“GOOD!” she screamed. “And then give me all of her information. So I can send a cease and desist!”
“I’m going home,” I said. “And when I get there I’m packing your shit and putting it in your car.”
I stepped over Ashley, with Perci following close behind me. I loaded up my car and unplugged it from the cabin outlet.
I sat in the driver’s seat and turned it on.
Fuck.
My car only had nine percent battery left. The cabin’s plug didn’t work.
The closest charging station was in Lake Arrowhead, an hour away. And my car said it would make it there with one percent battery left.
Damn, fuck you, Elon.
It was dark out and snowy, and I didn’t know the roads. This didn’t intimidate me though. Growing up in Alaska made me one of the best drivers in the world. But I had Perci, and I didn’t want him to feel car-sick with all the mountain switchbacks.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I had no choice but to stay at the cabin. When I walked back inside, Ashley was in a downward dog position on the living room floor. I saw her phone underneath her face. I heard a voice say, “It’s okay. Just breathe. Slow, deep breaths.”
Her mom.
I grabbed my wine and went upstairs to the bedroom with Perci. Once I closed the door, I kneeled down and threw my arms around him. “I’m sorry, bubba,” I whispered in his ear while kissing his cheek, “It’s gonna be okay.”
I felt like a horrible parent. We didn’t ask for this, we were both traumatized.
I went outside to the deck that extended from the bedroom. I sat in the hot tub and looked up at the stars. I wondered why the Universe liked to punk me like this. I had to laugh a little because of the sequence of events. If my friend Kerry hadn’t sent me the podcast recommendation we wouldn’t have listened to it. And we wouldn’t have listened to anything if we didn’t go on a road trip. And if we didn’t listen to it I never would have tweeted about it. And if I never tweeted about it this Michelle woman wouldn’t have told me Ashley catfished her, and I would’ve avoided this entire situation.
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I was lounging in the warm water, looking up at my homegirl, the moon, when I heard Ashley open the door to the deck. Her face was burnt red, like she had pre-heated it in the oven, and her eyes were swollen. She barely acknowledged me and got into the hot tub.
“What are you doing?” I said. “I don’t want to be around you right now.”
I stood up and left the hot tub. Perci and I went inside and I showered. I was able to avoid Ashley for the rest of the night. I did my puzzle and she did whatever she did. At two in the morning, I headed to bed.
She was still awake.
“I’m only sleeping here because there’s nowhere else to sleep,” I said, “Do not touch me and do not cross the middle of the bed.”
I didn’t want to fall into a deep sleep in case Ashley woke up in the middle of the night and tried to murder me with the fire poker, which would’ve made an excellent episode of Dateline, but I wasn’t ready to die yet so I propped myself up with pillows and slept with both eyes open. My anxiety was revved all the way up. I was in survival mode.
My mind raced: Ashley’s rage terrified me. And I wanted to know what Michelle had to say.
I got out of bed early the next morning and journaled in the living room. I needed to get Ashley out of the cabin.
She came downstairs around ten o’clock.
I made breakfast sandwiches for us as a way to butter Ashley up.
“Can you go charge my car?” I asked her. “The closest chargers are in Lake Arrowhead and I don’t want to take Perci on the windy roads if I don’t have to.”
I needed her to leave so I could reach out to Michelle.
“Fine,” she grunted.
Ashley left after breakfast. I watched my car get further away through the Tesla app. As soon as I thought it was safe, I got on Twitter.
“Hi,” I wrote to Michelle, “I got your message and Ashley says she doesn’t know you, she insisted you were friends with her ex and you’re trying to make her look bad.”
My downplaying skills are incredible. I should’ve said, “The very mention of your name triggered a demon to rise out of Hell and possess Ashley’s body, sending her into a murderous rage.”
She wrote back immediately.
“I have never met her wife in person, but Cecelia didn’t send me,” Michelle responded. “Ashley catfished me pretending to be a British man who lived in San Francisco and worked in marketing. She created a Universe of fake family members and friends and would have them call me and my family.”
Jesus Christ, this was almost exactly what we had just listened to.
“I even gave up my job and was going to move in with him, but then he ghosted me. I was only twenty-four,” Jesus, she was so young, twenty-four year olds are the perfect targets. “I was able to re-trace all of our interactions, and I found out it was Ashley. We met on Match.com, and she posed as the British guy.”
This was a lot to take in.
“Ashley insisted you wouldn’t have any proof. Would you mind sharing anything you have with me?”
“Yes, what’s your email?”
I sent Michelle my email, and within seconds, a big fat file arrived in my inbox.
I opened it.
It was organized into different folders: Emails, texts, social media, fake family and friends, phone records, and voicemails.
I opened the voicemail folder, shocked at how many different ones there were to choose from. I clicked one.
“Michelle, it’s me. Why are you ignoring my calls, you need to call me back as soon as you get this. I’m not going to beg you.”
Holy fuck. It was Ashley’s voice, there was no denying it. It sounded like she’d lowered it with a voice changer, but her British accent was terrible.
I clicked on another one.
“Michelle, I thought you’d be able to chat at 5:30, that was the time we said. I’m feeling a bit knackered, so call me back before I nod off.”
I opened the Social Media folder.
All of Ashley’s social media accounts were there: I didn’t think she had anything, but here were links to her Twitter, Vine, Instagram, and Facebook. She’d posted thousands of tweets. And, she’d created social media accounts for the man she was posing as.
Every time I’d open a new link, it blew me away. It felt like someone had poured an entire packet of pop rocks on my brain.
Ashley’s catfishing scam was so elaborate that it made Sweet Bobby look like it was pulled off by a Kindergartener.
“Holy shit,” I wrote to Michelle. “This is so insane. Fuck, it’s literally blowing my mind.”
“And there’s much, much more,” she said. “And I found other women she catfished.”
“Ashley blew up at me last night when I mentioned you had reached out, and she denied everything. Wow. Fuck. No wonder.”
“Are you safe?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said, “we’re in Big Bear, staying at a cabin. She went to charge my car but will be back in an hour or so.”
“I would suggest you reach out to her wife,” Michelle said.
“You mean her ex-wife?” I asked.
“No, they’re still married.”
What the actual fuck had I gotten myself involved in?
I checked my Tesla app. The little red dot was headed back to the cabin, and I had no idea what fresh hell was in the driver’s seat.
"Feeling a bit knackered" lol. Can you please make a Spotify playlist of all her fake British voicemail clips? I want to play it on my headphones as I go for a run.
Lauren! You were not safe at all! In hindsight maybe waiting to call her out about catfishing until you weren't TRAPPED IN A CABIN IN THE WOODS would have been a good choice. What in the 80's horror movie made you do that?