Busy times for the Chris Hemsworth of the catfish community

If you’ve ever wondered what it’s like being a middle-aged man on social media, let me enlighten you: it’s like being the most desirable gentleman on the face of the earth.

It’s like being Drake, Zac Efron and Jeff Bezos rolled into one. Like being Chris Hemsworth with his shirt off! Prince Harry if he was somehow single!

Actually, I have run out of desirable men to list, because that has not been my focus lately.

I have been too busy fending off the advances of literally dozens of attractive young women on Facebook.

Of course, it’s all nonsense. No attractive women are interested in me.

I am old, haggard and poor, like most of my agemates. However, somehow this grim combination is simply irresistible to the legions of cyber-criminals running catfish campaigns across social media.

And we fall for it. When I receive a friend request from someone with a suspiciously gorgeous profile picture, I immediately check what friends we might have in common.

Sure enough, there are all my mates – every bit as old, haggard and poor as me. And all friends with the improbably named Sunay Dlamini Pillay, with a pic of a local soap actress.

Of course, I’m not immune to the whiles of the catfish community.

I once fell hook, line and sinker for a beautiful medical doctor, whom I even launched a substantial conversation with.

She was exhausted from several months of working double shifts saving lives in the Covid wards of the Western Cape. Zelda Zulu was her name.

She liked the phrasing of my posts. Apparently, I say things everyone else is afraid to say. I am brave and outspoken. Also I am not like other men, according to Zelda Zulu.

She wished she could somehow get to know a guy like me.

“Where does one go to meet someone like you?” she wondered, exasperated.

To that gambit, I suppose I was meant to say, “Right here, my love. I am divorced, available, and ready to send you money!”

Fortunately, I noticed that every post on her entire account had been created on the same day, about two weeks earlier. The intervening fortnight had clearly been spent befriending all my other old, poor and haggard bras.

Since I entered the age range of the catfish target, I have learned to spot the dodgy Facebook, Twitter and Instagram friend requests. Essentially, anything sexy, Bitcoiny or Forex-y is a no.

Any deviation from my standard circle of acquaintances must be blocked, deleted and reported.

Mine is the realm of married couples with double selfies as their profile pic. Christine Danny van Deventer and the like.

People I used to jol with in the 90s. People from the Sandton Brazen Head. Clients and colleagues.

Someone’s brother. Those are my people.

And it is reassuring to know your people. They look a lot like you – old, haggard and poor, sure. But also kind of content. This is where we are, their faces say.

We’ve come a fair way, and we’ve done some significant things.

Now we need to focus on struggling through the month, buying food and paying school fees. Maybe a sneaky night out at the beginning of the month when we’re feeling rash.

That’s it, bro. That’s middle age. Not Covid surgeons who look like supermodels.

Luckily, we know that now. And they say self-knowledge is the key to happiness.