Honey trapping…. by men

Honey trapping is no longer a women-only con game!

A trap is only a trap if you don’t know about it. As soon as you know it’s a trap, it becomes a challenge.

TiH

In these difficult times, we know the busiest people are the conmen trying to drain your bank accounts.  Over the years, they’ve come up with ingenious plans, plots and twists to prey on the weak and the gullible.  They walk among us, holding bibles in their hands and proclaiming love for mankind and the universe.

It appears they may have exhausted every avenue e.g. this. The really devious ones troll online dating sites looking for vulnerable people desperate for love.  When they think they’ve found such a person they send you a great message….. “Your profile was recommended to me by the love-o-meter.  I took a look and loved it.  You are amazing and I think we have a lot in common.  Please check my profile and if you like what you see, hit me up!”  Your interest is elevated because their profile pic is a dreamboat and their bio is every girl’s dream.  You reply and let the chips fall where they may.

Within days they recommend that you move to WhatsApp communication because it is ‘in real-time talk’, and you get to know one another quicker – they leave their number and a soften-up note like, ‘only if you are comfortable with that.’ You agree.

The WhatsApp conversation starts with the greatest compliment of all time, ‘your profile pic is epic, you are so beautiful…’  You are flattered and returns the compliment because he looks beautiful too.  The next few days you talk about everything from the mundane to the dreams.  On a few occasions, he throws in phrases that make your heart miss beats: like, ‘I just spoke to my mum and told her about you.’  Ok, for some women this is a deal-breaker but for the majority, it’s a deal maker. 

And then the plot thickens…… let the honey trapping begin!

The first clue that something is not right.  He doesn’t reply to your messages for a whole day.  You send messages of concern and still hears nothing.  The next day he sends an apologetic long message.  He was involved in an accident.  Or his phone was stolen.  Or he was kidnapped and only managed to escape.  Or a million other possibilities known to bring the ‘maternal’ in every woman.  Your first reply is to ask if he was ok.  He replies with pictures.  Broken bones.  Bruised body.  Smashed up face.  Smashed up car.  The works.  You express sorrow. 

But something about those pictures doesn’t feel right.  They look old.  The smashed up face looks like a different person.  The smashed-up car looks generic.  But you suppress those feelings because deep down you are an empathic person.  The honey trapping is well and truly on. A few days later, he writes you yet another sob story.  At this point, the smelly rat is stinking up the internet.  Since you are an intelligent, powerful, beautiful and smart woman – you instantaneously know that this is a ruse.  And the only way to con a con is to indulge him.  Let the games begin. Turn the honey trapping game on its head.

Conversations flow for the next few days about his imaginary family and your made-up family.  You talk about your likes and dislikes.  He asks about your faith, but not before telling you all about his, even before you ask – he is a God-fearing man, he’s been praying for a life partner and along came you.  At this point you are, of course, not getting butterflies in your stomach but vomit in your throat.  Still, you indulge him.

He tells you how well-travelled and educated he is.  You pay him in kind and hint on how rich you are and the only thing missing in your life is a man.  You imagine his interest peaking up like a meerkat.  And then midway through one saucy conversation, he pretends to receive a call from his mechanic – another ruse.  He comes back all weepy saying how much it’s going to cost to fix his car (remember the smashed up car).  You sympathise and make helpful suggestions – you indulge him.  He tells you not to worry he will fix it.  You are already onto him so you’ll tell him what he wants to hear.

Fast forward a few weeks and the terms of endearment have been upgraded, … ‘baby’, ‘my woman,’ ‘sweetie’, ‘soulmate’, honey, sugar,… and planning a fucking vacation together!!.  You almost doubt your doubts…. maybe…. just maybe.  But then one day, he calls at 7 in the morning in tears about a disaster that has just happened to his elderly mum… ‘at the worst time possible’ he laments. Because he’d just spent a fortune fixing his damn car. 

Again you indulge him because by now you are having fun.  And his subtle cues are as subtle as a gun as Andrew Paxman says.  He tells you a very tall tale of how his mother’s home was invaded.  The thugs stole expensive jewellery and beat her into the afterlife.  She’s hanging on to dear life somewhere in the states.  In all likelihood, she will die.  Sob sob sob. He cannot forgive himself for not being by her side.  You laugh all too painfully. The lengths people are willing to go to con another soul include killing a mother! Unforgivable.

Again you make helpful suggestions, ‘get on the next available plane and go to her’.  He thanks you profusely for being ‘the voice of reason’ in his life and he expresses how he wouldn’t have known what to do if he didn’t have the most amazing woman in his life. This time you vomit a little bit. You grit your teeth but carry on.

The next day, he texts with sob emojis a mile long.  His mother is begging for him to go and see her – essentially her deathbed wish.  He can’t get flights out because they are so expensive to book last minute.  By this point you have supplied enough not-so-subtle hints that you own a successful business: he thinks you crap sterling pounds. He is ready for the kill!

And then… with the sweetest words invented by man, he asks if he could borrow the ticket money and pledges his vital organs to pay you back.  “Of course!”  You answer without missing a beat.  You only imagine the smile on his crooked lips, thinking to himself,… ‘yes I got the bitch…

In seconds he sends account details with a name suspiciously, [of course, no surprises there], different from the one he gave you at the beginning.  You pretend not to notice.  When no money appears within ten minutes, he asks what was wrong. 

No honey, I wasn’t going to deposit the money I will buy the ticket for you!’ you text back.  Imagine his twisted face.  He didn’t anticipate that.  But by now you are bored.  He sends a very long text explaining why it is best to deposit the money in his account.  You tell him you will. 

Ten minutes later, he calls, you ignore.  He texts and asks if you are ok and what was happening.  You tell him you are ok, ‘thanks for asking’.  You revel in the fact that he twiddling his thumbs.  The honey trapping conman is suddenly trapped in his own shit. You ignore the elephant in the text.  He texts again saying the money hasn’t arrived yet.  You text back saying it’s coming.  He asks if you have already done it.  You ignore. 

The next text from him is slightly angry and urgent but still buttered-up enough so you are still willing to send the money.  He stays online.  You type: he waits: you stop typing: he types.  Eventually, you tire of the bullshit. You send him a link to payday loans and a ‘so long sucker!’ emoji.

He is ‘typing’ when you block him!

***

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