I was catfished before there was even a term for it. I found out through the newspaper when he was arrested.

• After my divorce, I decided to try online dating during the summer of 2005.
• Social media wasn't as popular as it is today, so there wasn't much to be found in an online search.

It was around the summer of 2005. Online dating was new, and smartphones weren't in everyone's hands like they are today. There was no Twitter, no Facebook. And a Google search wasn't as thorough as it is today, not by a mile.

Being a single parent newly divorced after 14 years with a pervasive fear of abandonment left me feeling very vulnerable and ripe for what happened next.

I signed up for a couple of dating sites using a profile that I felt represented the best side of me. It wasn't long until I came home to see I'd matched with a man. I never expected to be deceived like I was.

We started talking regularly

In no time, he and I were talking on the phone every night and sometimes during the day. He would leave me sweet voice messages, seeming to know what I needed to hear. In turn, he became like a journal to me — I could pour out all my thoughts and feelings, knowing they would be safe with him.

The two things I remember vividly were that he said he was a contractor and that he described to me in detail this old classic Mercedes he drove.

I started to push him into getting together, but he was always too busy. As a substitute, he kept trying to get me to have phone sex with him. All my life I'd been very prudish regarding sex, so I kept refusing. After much prodding, however, I caved. I remember the first night completely giving myself over to his words, allowing him to seduce me, to say things and push me to do things that had always been far out of my comfort zone.

He kept canceling our dates

After about three weeks, he finally agreed to meet me. But each time we would plan to meet, he would cancel hours before we were supposed to get together.

Then one day I picked up a local newsletter. One of the stories was about a man with the first name James — not the name he used with me — who had been arrested, accused of driving a stolen Mercedes, the same kind as the one my "boyfriend" had described to me. The article went on to say that James worked as a day laborer for contractors in the area and had been accused of stealing items from worksites.

I called him, but there was no answer. I never heard from him again.

I knew in my heart that everything that had happened between us was a lie. He had invaded my body with his words and taken it over without apology or explanation. I didn't know how to extricate myself, because how does one go about doing that when you've never met the person who has violated your soul, heart, and mind? Who, with no remorse, stole your sense of dignity and your faith in others? Do you report him to the police? Isn't that in and of itself a violation that deserves some form of punishment? How is that not a crime?

That isn't how this works.

Years later, I learned the term "catfish," which I realized was what he had done to me. But instead of feeling angry, I felt sorry for him. If you're not perfect, or at least relentlessly striving to get there, then you post a profile of your best self and hide behind its wall, hoping no one will ever see the real you.