Cupid’s arrow first pierced my heart in Fullerton Elementary School. I was 5.
Valentine’s Day cards were exchanged, placed in brown lunch bags, hung like paper mailboxes with a student’s name and colorful designs on each, along the classroom wall.
I was so happy to receive a Valentine’s Day card from my kindergarten crush Sharon.
When I got home that day to my Whitehall home and compared my Valentine’s Day haul with that of my cousin Peter, who was in the same class, he showed me an identical card, with the same words of love, that he had received from Sharon.
Whoosh. A Cupid crush crushed.
Cupid is a chimerical character in my life. Another close encounter of the Cupid kind was standing on stage in the conference center at the former Allentown Hilton at Ninth and Hamilton streets for a “Bachelor Bid” fundraiser during the 1970s. It was humiliating to not be one of the top bid recipients.
Bam. Crushed again by Cupid.
It’s no wonder I’m not a fan of ABC-TV’s “The Bachelor.”
Years later, in the new millennium, Cupid, that fickle imp, is alive and well on social media.
Valentine’s Day is Feb. 14.
Zing. How will Cupid crush me this year?
Not that I am unique in dating in the time of coronavirus.
My Syracuse University college buddy Joey, who lives in New York City, met a woman for a date in Central Park that they arranged via a dating site. Each wore a face mask. He sat near one end of the park bench. She sat near the other end of the park bench. Joey slid about one foot closer to her. She slid about one foot further away from him.
Love is not easy, at any age.
That’s why, apparently more than ever in the past year, many have resorted to online dating. People are looking for love in all the internet places.
My experience with online Cupidry has been bewildering, comical and downright dangerous.
It began nearly one year ago in mid-March when the coronavirus pandemic shutdown went into effect. Women contacted me via Instagram. I was also contacted via Twitter and Facebook. Internet correspondence is the 21st-century version of pen pals: Cyber pen pals.
I have never encountered so many with malfunctioning cellphones, internet service-provider problems, aunts with illnesses, and in need of “food stuffs.”
Perhaps because I review movies and have interviewed celebrities for the media, some who contacted me claimed to be recognizable public figures.
Among the following, none of the real persons actually contacted me. I confirmed this with several.
Late one night, I was contacted by Tony Bennett, with whom I did a phone interview for an advance article in Lehigh Valley Press prior to a Bennett concert in 2015 at the State Theatre Center for the Arts, Easton. I also attended a Bennett concert at the Allentown Fair Grandstand in 1995 and at Miller Symphony Hall in 1992.
The texts from Bennett are too much to go into. Tony Bennett, itstonybennett, with a verified blue certificate checkmark, has 262,000 Instagram followers.
There were more online fake accounts who crossed my cyberspace. Lots more.
Katie Katro, a dynamic 6ABC Action News, Philadelphia, TV news reporter, didn’t contact me. Someone posing as her did.
Katro warns her followers, including me, of fake Katie Katro Instagram accounts. Katro, katiekatro6abc, with verified blue certificate checkmark, has 56,300 Instagram followers.
I started following Rocio Salas, M.D., of New York Endocrinology, on Instagram. Soon, I was contacted by “Rocio” via WhatsApp about investing in Bitcoin.
I contacted Rocio Salas, newyorkendocrinology, who has 13,300 Instagram followers. Salas texted me on Instagram: “My IG [Instagram] is purely professional. Anyway, thanks for letting me know.”
I haven’t invested in Bitcoin, although others have contacted me about doing so.
There were other “offers.” Some, wanting to deposit money into my bank account, requested routing information. You know that trick. So do I. Your account gets emptied. Some sent me checks. Some threatened extortion. Some asked for my Social Security number. Others wanted a copy of my Pennsylvania driver’s license. I’ve been in touch with bank officials and authorities. That’s a whole other story.
Other hijacked Instagram accounts that contacted me included:
Kristina Basham, pianist, violinist, drummer and aerobatics pilot who married Scott Adams, “Dilbert” cartoonist, in 2020. Basham, kristinabasham, with the verified blue certificate checkmark, has 3.9 million Instagram followers.
Charlize Theron (Oscar recipient, actor, “Monster,” 2003), whose movie, “The Old Guard” (2020), I reviewed for Lehigh Valley Press Focus. Theron, charlizeafrica (Theron is a South Africa native), with the verified blue certificate checkmark, has 6.4 million Instagram followers.
Not only did one fake “Charlize Theron” contact me, but two fake Theron accounts contacted me. I texted Theron on her Instagram account but haven’t heard back.
A female friend tells me the litmus test for social media correspondence to determine if the “person” is a real woman, man, fake profile or bot, is to request a phone call, Facetime or video chat.
I have asked. None granted that.
An exception was Vicki from Knoxville, Tenn., a medical technician, poet, lyricist, grandmother and all-around great gal who rescues horses. She and I met in person.
I am thinking about writing a book, or starting a blog, about love in the time of coronavirus.
The kindergarten days of paper bag Valentine’s Day card collectors seem so far away.
And yet so close.
Paul Willistein is editor of the Lehigh Valley Press Focus section in the eight Lehigh Valley Press newspapers and websites. Email: pwillistein@tnonline.com. You can request to “friend” Paul Willistein on facebook and “follow” him on Twitter and Instagram.