On a first date, everything seemed normal until the bill arrived. The waitress told my date—who called himself Deacon—that his card was declined. Outside, she whispered to me that she had lied and slipped me a receipt with two words scribbled on the back: Be careful. When I went back inside, she warned me that he brought different women there, played broke, and some had even been robbed after letting him stay over.
I did some digging later and discovered his real name wasn’t Deacon, but Marvin. Online threads described him as a scammer using fake names to trick women into giving him money or shelter. When he texted me again, I invited him over, but I prepared my home so he couldn’t steal anything. During the evening, he casually hinted about needing “a place to crash.” That’s when I confronted him with his real name. He didn’t argue—just left.
Soon after, I was contacted by other women who had also been deceived by him. We met, shared stories, and realized there were at least nine of us. Reporting him to the authorities led nowhere due to “lack of proof,” so we created a private group chat to warn each other and other women in our city.
What started as a bad date became a lesson in trust and vigilance. That waitress’s warning may have saved me from becoming another victim. Now, I use my experience to help protect others. Sometimes, the most important thing we can do is share our story—because a single warning can ripple out and keep someone else safe.
