Like many men during the COVID terror, Brook is bored. So, he reached out to me. This is not the first time I have been romanced online. That got me wondering–what do these social media males see in me that mortal flesh and blood dudes can’t identify?
Inquiring minds, mainly mine, want to know. If I’m ever single—or better yet, to put some spark in my husband’s step—the ability to reproduce my internet allure in real life would be a game changer.
Maybe Brook could help me with that. But, before I respond and make his lovelorn heart pitty-pat, I need to check to see if he is real or if he is Memorex.
As a former investigator, I began a somewhat exhaustive search, throwing all my probative skills into the endeavor. My findings:
- Brook contacted me by sending a text message to my business phone number located on my website. Hmm. If he had gushed about my novels and thrown in some specific keywords to prove he had read them, I probably would not be so suspicious. (Do you think the number is for sale on the dark web?)
- He has a Los Angeles phone number. I went for broke and used an online service, inserting the digits. The group claimed they had a myriad of reports available. Reluctantly, I deposited $1.00 for a seven-day account. The reports came back, alright, but contained no information–the number was clean. (Is he using the burner ap?)
- The store behind Brook is Rochebobois Paris. This French-based furniture chain has many worldwide locations, including the U.S. My guess is that the photo was taken in Europe by the looks of the license plate.
- Brook? Does he look like a Brook to you? I didn’t even know men were named Brook.
- Calling me a damsel? I’ve been called a Nazi female before, but never a damsel.
Sigh. My gut tells me he’s Memorex. I’ll have to wait until another knight in shining armor professes his love to find the answer to my question.