True Story©... Do For Luv

 


     Complicit innocence…  Or innocent complicity.
Whatever, it’ll all make sense in a few minutes.

 

     One of the things that keeps my marriage successful is the understanding that I WILL do stupid shit while in character as Moe Phillips, but at no point will I ever actually run afoul of my vows.  Also, it will ALWAYS be entertaining and will sometimes even be funny, even if only to me.  Sometimes the schemes will even scare up a few coins for us to spend on new sneakers or vacation or something else we enjoy.

 

     All that said, I signed up for some dating sites as Moe last month.  Heavily filtered and edited images of myself were used, I took off my glasses and removed my beard digitally.  In next to no time the right-swiping commenced and believe it or not, my DM box was slid into.  Surprising, women weren’t this forward 10 years ago.
The whole time, Wife Person™ had access to the account so as to be absolutely sure that all the real-life dealings were on the up-and-up.  Yes, planned catfishing.

 

     As I have since destroyed evidence, I don’t have screenshots or even direct quotes of the conversations and since the shit moved so quickly, I swear I don’t remember it all in detail.

[Phlip note: sometimes my memory is gone to shit now that I don’t really drink much anymore]

Long story short, I had this woman SUPER interested.  My thing to her was that I was an over-the-road truck driver and until I shored up the funds to buy a house Straight Cash Homie, I provided for and lived with my mother.  That means no home visits and pre-excused the fact that I am rarely home for a lot of attention.  This kept me from having to rush to meet her.  We went out for lunch one time, with my wife secretly at the next table.  Again, this is me keeping me honest.

 

Things progressed pretty quickly and she was feeling me Moe.  I was invited to come by her place time and again, which I demurred using the excuse of not getting back into town until almost 3am and respect for the reality of booty call hours leading me to wanna slow things down.
This shit made her go NUTS for me Moe.

 

After a few weeks of conversation and an increasing interest in Moe, it came time for me to spring the trap on this shit and either get some money out of this situation or get out of it.  Hell, AND get out of it as a matter of fact.
My explanation to her was that I, while talking to some other drivers, was put onto a business opportunity selling Fat Bummy Tea.  As truckers tend to be some of the most unhealthy individuals around, it was positioned as a useful supplement to the poor diet and overall sentience of time in the truck cab.
No, she didn’t THINK of asking about Fat Bummy Tea, because–...  well, Soft Eyes.  When the rest of the pitch is plausible, inconsistencies aren’t necessarily glowing the same way.

 

So she hears “business opportunity” from someone who seems to have their shit together and starts seeing dollar signs.  She asks about pay structure and recruitment models and all that good stuff.  She ASKED to go to a meeting if there was one locally.  No curiosity, it seems.  No Googling the actual terms I provided, no researching efficacy, NOTHING.  Just “let’s get this money.”

 

I explained to her that I had not gotten in through any meetings because, again, over-the-road truckers.  It was word of mouth, direct to the truckers I come across, so her “in” would be to me, me to the ones who put me on, so on and so forth.  I showed her a case of some silly-ass teas I had come up with and made in the house and used the printer in our home office to make labels for and an excel spreadsheet with pricing models.  I explained that she would need to hold some inventory which she could choose to use or sell, or she could recruit others to do the same.

 

She opted to take in the inventory to try out first for herself, so she could speak from experience when presenting this to her friends and family as a product and/or opportunity.

 

… and this is where shit goes sideways, or my “get out this shit” moment.

     I remember this shit like it was last Tuesday…
The phone (naturally, the Moe Phillips burner) rang.

 

Me: “Hello?”

Her: “What is this shit you sold me?”

Me: “Fat bummy tea.  The same thing the truckers put me onto.”

Her: “You said it was healthy!”

Me: “I said it was an alternative to the poor diet of a trucker.”

Her: “I’ve gained EIGHT POUNDS in three days.”

Me: “I bet dat ass thicc though.”

Her: “What!?”

Me: “Nothing…  Never mind.  Are you following the label instructions?”

Her: “Hold on, lemme double check.”

Me: “Okay”

 

     I allowed her a few minutes to read the gobbledygook I had put on the label after the mixing instructions.  It was really a bunch of nonsense, worded as if Jar Jar Binks was speaking to Yoda.

 

Her: “What the FUCK?!!?  I don’t understand a word of this shit.”

Me: “So you didn’t read the label before, did you?”

Her: “Wait…  What the FUCK is ‘Fat Bummy Tea’?  I thought you said ‘Flat Tummy’!”

Me: “Soft eyes…”

Her: “What does THAT mean?”

Me: “Nevermind, I never promised you anything specifically.”

Her: “I want my fucking money back!”

Me: “H-holy shit, my hippopotamus is going into labor, I’ll hit you back!”

Her: “But–…”

*click*

 

     Before moving along, blocked her number, then I blocked her on Tinder, then I used her number to find her on The Bookface™, Twitter and LinkedIn, then I blocked her there too.

     Was it worth the $1900 I made?
HELL yeah!


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