Though Amy had promised her that anonymity wouldn’t be a problem at CatAnon.
‘It’s in the title. Catfishers Anonymous. You don’t even have to give your real name. I think lots of them go by initials or their old catfish handles – it’s something to do with facing their actions or whatever. May the fourth be with you.’
Ali had grinned. Liv had said exactly the same to her first thing this morning. They were perfect for each other.
Shit. Ali could see the last of the CatAnons holding the door open for one another and she hopped out of the car and sprinted across. The tall, ginger guy heading inside just in front of her turned to greet her.
‘Hi. I’m @SweetBabyAngel16.’ He held out his hand to shake hers.
‘Oh, yeah. Hi.’ Ali tucked her hair nervously behind her ear. ‘I’m, eh, @AlisBaba.’ An unmistakable flicker of recognition crossed his face, but he simply smiled warmly and said, ‘I think you’ve come to the right place, my friend.’
Ugh, God. Were the Catfishers going to be all peace and love and healing? Ali grimaced, making her way inside and slipping into a seat near the door at the back. @SweetBabyAngel16 had taken the one in front of her. She looked around the room. There were about sixteen people altogether. A few caught her eye and smiled, which she nervously dodged. Her tummy felt weird, but she couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the first detectable little hum of life from the bab. She’d seen him on the scan. He looked like a kidney bean with wiggly little arms and legs and she’d felt certain he was a boy. She gave her non-existent bump a gentle pat and held her breath to feel the gentle pops within. It had to be the baby. She smiled to herself. There you are! The midwife at her last appointment reassured her she’d start showing soon. She was nineteen weeks after all. ‘Everyone’s body is different,’ she’d said, patting Ali’s arm.
Ali didn’t like to dwell on the fact that while a large part of her was just excited to have a bump, a smaller part of her thought that once Sam saw her with a cute little pregnant belly, he’d finally soften towards her. Aaaand if she was being totally honest, another even smaller, darker part of her knew the bump’d better get on with popping soon, as Amy’d finalised an excellent sponsorship deal for Ali’s return to Instagram. As the girl who’d previously cried ‘baby’, they needed there to be no niggling doubts in the followers’ minds that this time it was #AlisNoBullshitBaba. That was literally the campaign’s hashtag. They had partnered with Sweet Little Lies – Ireland’s first and only private polygraph testing service – and Ali was constantly having to look at the final figure they’d agreed on to keep herself from backing out. After Amy’s cut it was nearly a year’s salary at Durty Aul’ Town.
Amy was irritated by Ali’s qualms. ‘For God’s sake, a few months ago you designed a pram for your fake baby, Ali. What’s the problem? This campaign is about a mea culpa. It’s about owning up to your bullshit. And coming clean. It’s perfect.’
Ali gazed around the walls as more people came in and got settled. There were posters with slogans everywhere.
‘Don’t do the first post.’
‘Keep it in the day.’
‘Do no harm, tell no lies.’
‘Put the phone down.’
A woman settled herself in one of the chairs at the desk at the top of the room, opened a large diary and began doing a headcount. Behind her hung two vast posters that looked like scrolls. One announced in large letters: ‘The 12 Steps of Catfishers Anonymous’ while the other proclaimed ‘The 12 Beliefs of Catfishers Anonymous’. Ali started to read with interest when a last straggler bustled in and hurried to the empty chair at the desk.
Ali clamped her mouth shut in case she audibly gasped. She’d not been expecting to run into someone she knew at this little weirdo shindig but there, shrugging off her denim jacket and sitting primly facing the room, was none other than @PollysFewBits. What the actual fuck was she doing here? And not just here but, judging by her seat at the head of the room, here in some sort of position of seniority? Ali saw Polly see her and a look of mild panic swept across her usually serene features. Ali tried to smile in a reassuring fashion and Polly nodded brusquely, leaning to hear whatever the woman beside her was saying.
They confabbed for a second longer, then the woman beside Polly cleared her throat and began reading from a laminated sheet in front of her.
‘Hello and welcome to this meeting of Catfishers Anonymous. My name is @BigDickY2K and I am a catfisher.’
The people around Ali drowned back: ‘Hi @BigDickY2K.’
‘This is a closed meeting of Catfishers Anonymous,’ she continued. ‘The only requirement for attendance is a desire to stop catfishing. Are there any newcomers here today who would like to introduce themselves?’
At least six people looked in Ali’s direction. According to Amy, there was only one group like this in the whole of Dublin, so of course they were going to notice a newbie. Ali sighed and cleared her throat awkwardly.
‘Hi, I’m … eh …’
@SweetBabyAngel16 turned back, coming to her rescue. ‘You can say your name or use your old online handle,’ he whispered. ‘Then say you’re a catfisher.’ He finished with a wink.
‘OK … I’m @AlisBaba and I’m a … catfisher.’
‘Hi @AlisBaba,’ chimed everyone, with lots of them giving her warm nods and encouraging smiles. The girl beside her, who looked about 30, shook her hand.
‘We will begin today’s meeting with @Always_Watching who has kindly agreed to share her story of recovery from catfishing addiction.’
‘Thanks, M.’ Polly smiled at the woman beside her and clasped her hands together on the table in front of her. ‘I’m @Always_Watching and I’m a catfisher. So … where to start? I suppose the first time I ever made a fake profile was back in the MSN messenger days, which is a bit of a giveaway on my age!’ A few appreciative chuckles rippled through the room. ‘I’d go on there and pretend to be this really hot girl who was amazing at hockey and on the school team. It wasn’t serious lies at first. I just wanted to feel like I could be someone different. I loved talking to the boys on there who were so gorgeous, and all seemed to be the most popular guys in their schools. Sure, who knows who they were. I was probably talking to some of you lot.’ Polly grinned and the room erupted in guffaws. Ali spotted one of the older men getting a knowing nudge from the little old lady beside him.
‘I suppose things got more serious when I got to college and there was more opportunity to be online. My parents had been pretty strict because it was all new back then. When I was a teenager, the family PC was the size of a small car and it was plonked in the living room, where the whole family hung out. But when I got to college, I could stay in the library all day. And, of course, that’s when MySpace and Bebo became big and I had millions of profiles. I was lead singer in a band on one and I was really into dancing on another. I’d steal all the pictures from obscure blogs and tumblrs. It was a bit easier back then. You couldn’t reverse search an image yet,’ she added a little sadly, as though mourning a simpler time when catfishing was pure. Ali looked around the room at the sea of sympathetic faces. Some nodded at different things Polly said.