Trashley: Forty-Seven

Dragon’s Blood

When I discovered Ashley was back on dating apps, Michelle and I created Fake Aimee to catfish her back. Because when Ashley went low, we went lower. I’m not proud of it, but I wanted to see if Ashley was still lying or if she had changed at all.

After nearly two days of talking, I got my answer.

If I didn’t know better, I’d believe I was talking to a well-read, nerdy, eccentric woman who valued kindness and monogamy and quite possibly had a gambling problem. And she would believe I was an adventurous, sporty British brunette who was emotionally available despite going through a recent break-up.

We were both lying about who we were, and I still couldn’t understand the appeal.

If a man financially abused, cheated, gaslit, and abandoned his pregnant wife and child while love bombing his mistress and then prowling for his next victim on Hinge, every single woman in the world would light a torch and take turns burning him at the stake. He’d be exiled from society, and no one would ever have sex with him again.

I needed to remember this any time I felt sympathetic towards Ashley. This was her character, and just because she was born with two XX chromosomes didn’t make her actions any less devious.

I issued an alert on the local lesbian emergency hotline, and news of Ashley’s catfishing spread through East LA like the Omicron variant. All the gay girls were instructed on what to do if they encountered…