Ali and Kelly each shifted uncomfortably. Ali could feel the eyes of the other catfishers drifting over to them. Most of the others were older. They catfished on gmail or Twitter or Facebook. Ali had always sensed a bit of judgement from them over the fact that she and Polly still had Instagram accounts – which Polly now sadly was proving right.
‘I became addicted to the thing. Every time I put up a picture and got likes and comments, it just felt so good. I started to think I really was somebody because 20,000 people I knew nothing about followed me on this app. I knew I was drifting away from the CA programme but the more followers I got, the more I felt like I couldn’t give it up. I became obsessed with my numbers. I knew I was losing control when I began pretending to be someone else on the ’gram. It wasn’t exactly like my @AlwaysWatching days. Back then, all my aliases were like elaborate fictions I made up.
‘This time I just began to make subtle tweaks to who I was. I was me. Kind of. But better. I was obsessed with one woman and at some point, I started modelling myself on her. She got a peninsula in her kitchen, so I got a peninsula put in. She had dark hair, so I went dark. She did her bedroom in beige with textures of gold and chocolate; I did mine in beige with textures of gold and chocolate. I even had my second child because I wanted to have a girl just like Shelly did.’ Polly shook her head sadly. ‘Such a stupid, stupid obsession. But you don’t understand … it took hold of me.’ She looked around the room, something pleading in her expression. Kind faces looked back. Many people were nodding, herself included, Ali realised. Polly was describing exactly what her own descent into Insta-insanity had been like.
Illogical yet irresistible. Why did she want strangers to like her or think well of her or envy her? It was a ludicrous pursuit but impossible to stop once you were sucked in.
Thanks in no small part to these meetings, since returning to Instagram, Ali had largely shed the obsession. After losing Miles and screwing things up with Sam, the hearts and comments of strangers just didn’t buoy her the way they had before. She wasn’t even sure how many people followed her anymore. She didn’t quite want to chuck it all in – she still needed to sell tickets to her show! – but now her Instagram was a means to an end instead of the entire point of her life. It was a crucial difference.
Polly was still clearly in the grip of her addiction. She’d been talking now for longer than was usually permitted at the meeting, but everyone could sense there was more to say.
‘I became so addicted to this woman and to comparing my life to hers. I set up Google Alerts for her name. I started an account that only followed her so that I never had to wade through any other users to find her latest updates. I guess this was the beginning of the end of my catfishing sobriety. I didn’t put my name on the account. I had a new handle and before long I was using it to control this woman. And hurt her. I wanted to hurt her. She’d begun to post less online and I became furious. She was taking away the thing I needed most in the world. Herself. It just escalated and escalated but I didn’t realise how much I was enjoying tormenting her until she suddenly put a stop to it. She outed me to her followers. Or not me exactly but what I was doing. She’s ruined everything. Now, she’s taken away the one thing that was giving my life meaning. She has everything. Everything goes right for her. She gives her child the finger on video and everyone still fucking loves her. She doesn’t even know what she has.’ Polly was working herself up into another fury now. ‘She has the perfect house and her perfect little girl. You can do so much shit on Insta with a little girl. I can’t bring my fucking son on a #MamaAndMe pamper day, can I? Can I?’
This was met with stunned silence. No one was nodding sympathetically anymore, and Polly looked furious.
‘Oh, fuck this place. You’re all talk but the second anyone has a real problem, no one really wants to help.’
Polly stood up with such force that her folding chair collapsed backwards. She grabbed her bag and made for the door but at the last minute whipped back around to point in Ali’s direction.
‘I better not hear a fucking whisper of this out there, Ali. Anonymity is the foundation of all our beliefs.’
Ali rose. She had to say something, as apparently no one else was going to. ‘You should delete the app, Polly. You need to put this all behind you. It’s not too late to make a fresh start. Just delete the app and leave Shelly alone. I won’t breathe a word, I promise. I swear on this baby’s life, I won’t betray your confidence, but you have to stop. Do you understand?’
For a moment longer, the sneer remained on Polly’s wild features but then she crumpled, folding in on herself, starting to cry once more.
Ali moved towards her and pulled her into a hug, patting Polly’s matted hair and trying to soothe her ragged sobs.
Ali felt torn about promising not to tell Shelly but she couldn’t betray the group and break the anonymity rule. Polly and the CatAnon group had helped her so much these last months. Plus, Polly coming clean had to mean something; it had to mean that she truly did want to end this madness.
As they embraced, the other catfishers seemed to finally find their voices again and several clapped and muttered encouraging words.
‘Well done for facing your behaviour.’ @sluttycheerleader69 tentatively patted Polly’s shoulder before resting a hand on Ali’s lower back.
He leaned in to whisper, ‘Nice work, Ali.’
Later, as they cruised around the IKEA car park looking for a spot, Ali idly related @sluttycheerleader69’s interest to Liv, though she was careful not to name him or reveal any identifying details.
‘Ugh. He’s a confirmed bump-banger, so.’ Liv rolled her eyes, pulling into a family space near the entrance.
Ali briefly considered the contortions that would be necessary for them to even do it, then shrugged off the idea swiftly. Ick.
‘Do you think we can park here?’ she asked as they got out.
Liv shrugged. ‘We’ve got a baby in tow. We’re a family. Of sorts!’
Ali nodded. It was very reassuring that Liv was getting on board. ‘So happy you’re willing to sacrifice your youth with me and raise this baby together.’
‘Well, somewhat.’ Liv grabbed a trolley and they joined the stream of other young couples heading for the entrance. Virtually every woman in the vicinity had a burgeoning bump – obviously the IKEA trip was mandatory for soon-to-be parents. ‘Let’s say you can absolutely count on me if absolutely all else fails. Maybe give yer man – the bump-banger – a try first!’ Liv mugged.
‘Ew, no. Don’t encourage me, the problem is I’m super … randy.’
‘Randy? Ewww,’ Liv moaned as they took the packed lift up to the showroom.
‘I know,’ Ali wailed as she stood wedged between the other shoppers. ‘I mean, I wish I could call it something else but “randy” is the only word for it. I’m in heat or something. Are you having this at all?’ Ali turned to a wary-looking pregnant woman beside them. ‘I thought it would have gone away by now but it’s only intensifying,’ Ali continued, ignoring the horrified looks of the others in the lift. ‘Genuinely the only thing stopping me from giving him a go is the thoughts of him then wank-banking it for life, ya know? It feels unfair to the baby somehow.’