Tucker #9: Georgia On My Mind.

My stomach catapulted into my throat when William told me he'd found a match for our elusive Lothario. The tone in his voice when he assured me I would not believe what he was about to tell me, indicated a shock value of proportions I could not even begin to gauge. In the half second between hearing his words and replying with my own, I seemed to concoct a thousand theories of my secret suitor's identity.

Was it someone in William's family - thus explaining the extensive use of their names? His brother, a cousin, his father?

Was it a friend of William's - trying to play a twisted joke on his buddy, not realizing the expense at which it came?

Did William and I somehow have a connection with a mutual friend we didn't catch on to? Was someone playing the both of us?

(Aside: how fucking awesome is Michael Bolton? I can't even think to write while I'm listening to this man. Also, mental note to watch Office Space ASAFP*)

Was it someone with some level of social or political stature, hiding his identity to woo me with his personality and charm, instead of his bank account?

My mind even drifted to the impossible - was this someone who had died, and a friend hacked his Facebook account, picking up where he left off? Morbid? Yeah. But really, at this point, I would have believed nearly anything.



I snapped back to reality and waited for William to reveal what he'd found. I don't know why I didn't think to reverse-search Tucker's phone number. Actually, I had done that via Google, quite some time ago. The only thing that turned up was an area code verification that the number originated in Rome, Georgia - something I already knew. What I didn't think to do, was download a creepy iPhone app that, for 99 cents, searches beyond basic telephone directories and pulls up any location your number is stored online. Facebook? Nabbed it. FourSquare? Caught ya! Twitter? You can't hide from the iPhone you sonofabitch. Thankfully, William is far smarter than I am, and thought to put his phone to work searching for our perpetrator. Sure enough, within moments, a Facebook page appeared on his screen.

When Tucker told me the name at the top of the Facebook profile, I was speechless. For, quite possibly, the first time ever in my life (act surprised, assholes) I was completely and utterly unable to speak. This could not be possible. I must have muttered "Are you sure?" a dozen times, each time William patiently responding with some variation of "Yes, I'm absolutely sure."

I clicked the profile, hoping to find more information about my cybersuitor. Instead of venturing into his online wonderland, I was roadblocked by a mostly private profile. There was a vague profile picture - the kind where you can't even make out a face, and you're not entirely sure if you're looking at a person or a circus animal. I could see the Rome, Georgia location, a friends list, and a listing of new friends and event RSVP's on the devastatingly bare wall. I couldn't look at any more profile pictures, but suddenly my eyes were drawn to the top right corner of the page - "Mutual Friends: Tucker Evans."

"William...you're our mutual friend...do you know this person?"

He insisted he didn't, at least not that he could recall. The only explanation he could come up with was that they attended the same high school, though he was a few years older. Perhaps his younger brother was a connection? It was a small town, and not entirely impossible that it was simple "I know who you are because we're 2 of 2000 people who live in this town" sort of friend request - my Fremont crowd can totally relate to this. We all have at least 100 friends that live in our town, we have 200 mutual friends with, but aside from the errant "like" and awkward birthday wish, have never spoken a single word to in our lives.

William ventured further into profile exploration, as I wait anxiously on the other end of the phone for him to give me some sort of clue as to how - and why - this was even possible. I'm still not convinced it's correct - could there have been an error? Did iphone genie lie to us? As William browsed the profile, he quickly confirmed the number app was correct - the phone number I'd been texting - Tucker's number, was right there, in black and white (actually I think it's blue...or maybe that's just on my phone. Either way...), listed as the contact number. I hung up the phone as I tried to process what I had just been told. I was stunned. Confused. Outraged. Confused. Scared. Disgusted. Confused. Pissed out of my mind. Dumbfuckfounded. HOW? How is this even possible? How could I not have made the connection before? How did I not pick up on this - I should have known.

My emotions are in a battle royale as I stare blankly at the screen in front of me. I should have known all along...but how could I have? I fight the truth, still clinging to some shred of belief that a mistake has been made. Despite the smorgasbord of facts, spread out in a tell tale buffet in front of me, I struggle to rearrange the pieces to create an alternate ending for this tale. My perfect, perfect man has to exist. He has to be real. This is all a huge mistake, and at any moment, Tucker is going to text me that he's home from Georgia, and waiting on his couch with a bottle of wine and a stack of Will Ferrell movies. There's a perfectly logical explanation for all of this, and my fairytale ending that I don't even believe in will finally unfold. Whatever this is, is a cruel joke - come on Ashton Kutcher, you can come out now!


For a blissful moment, the anger entirely subsides. I no longer feel betrayed, lied to, deceived to most unbeliavable extreme. I feel nothing. I look at the face peeking out at me from beneath the ballcap in the profile photo, and I stop feeling anything. Then, as soon as the anger had evaporated, the wave of the next emotion crashed down on me. I felt broken. My heart physically hurt - I had really fallen for this incredible man - a man who loved the Lord and his mama and was charming and adorable to boot. Our conversations of building our dream house and spending weekends fishing came pouring back into my mind as the floodgates of memories reopened. I was caught in a torrential downpour of reminders of why I was still so emotionally entangled in this mess. I left the anger and pursuit of justice to stand in the rain of that perfect love I almost had. This was the end. The proof was right in front of me. Tucker was over - there was no explanation, no justification, no redemption. He was gone, I'd been had. I. Was. Devastated.





I called William back, after regaining enough composure to try and determine the appropriate next move. By the time he answered the phone, he'd already done some poking around. His voice was uneven - almost shaky - as he told me what he'd just come across.




"I looked through the profile pictures - there were only three."




"That's weird...but what did you find?"




"Well, the first one is the one you can see - with the baseball hat on..."




"Right - where you can hardly even make out a face."










"Yeah. Well, the second two...are of me."

Tucker #10: Who Are You?

Everyone PLEASE watch this video and laugh your asses off at Keith Moon. Notice his headphones DUCT TAPED to his head. God bless The Who.


When I left you last, I'd sort of dropped a bomb on you. Sorry about that. Also sorry for being MIA the last few days - I had the pleasure of recording an interview with one of my favorite podcasts, "A Little Off Topic", and had to be careful about how far ahead in the story I went. Now that the interview's live, I'm back to further draw out the story and annoy the piss out of you. Oh, but speaking of that interview, click here to listen to it...and snag a secret or two only revealed on the podcast!


Where were we?

Ah, yeah. Still not at the end...but would you expect any less?



When William told me he'd found the Facebook page of our culprit, I was nervous, excited, scared, and anxious, all at the same time. I couldn't wait to find out who had been stringing me along all these weeks, but at the same time I was, in a strange way, sad to see this come to an end. Perhaps "sad" isn't the appropriate term. It's difficult to explain, but the Tucker saga had become so much a part of my life, it was going be strange to finally lay it to rest, for better or for worse.


As I stared at the face of the person behind Tucker, I no longer knew what to think. The person I was looking at was NOT the man in the photos from the dating profile or the Facebook page. The person I was looking at was another person entirely - this was not simply the case of a changed first name. There wasn't much information for me to go on, as the profile seemed pretty bare. Even William, who could view the Facebook page in its entirety, wasn't able to pull any significant clues about the identity of our perp, or the reasons behind the stolen name AND photos.


So many questions arose.

Who is this person?
How do they know William?
Why William's name?
Who is the man in the photos on the dating profile?
How much of the dating profile is true?
Why did this all begin?
How can the extensive Facebook page be explained? 4+ years of history?
Why does William's profile picture appear as two of this freak's profile pics?


I started to piece together my own assumptions for the answers to these plaguing questions. Whoever this is, clearly knows William and/or his family. The man in the photos MUST be a friend, family member, or some other close personal connection - nothing else would explain the readily available plethora of photos so easily claimed as his own. I still couldn't explain the history of the Facebook page. Did this man abandon his page, for whatever reason (new job, got rid of FB, bad breakup, who knows), and our imposter somehow accessed this old page, revived it, and carried on as though it was their own? None of it made sense. There were far too many loose ends and unexplainable aspects for me to fully believe that we'd found the person behind the crime. It seemed as though this new discovery was only a stepping stone to the real truth - I certainly wasn't satisfied with this ending.


I went back to discussing the discovery with William. He promised to make some phone calls, do some digging, and find out just how he and "Tucker" were connected. It didn't take long for my phone to ring with yet another breaking news announcement from my Georgian counterpart. As it turns out, Tucker and William were, indeed, connected - closer than William had imagined. Tucker has a niece - a 16 year old girl living in the same hometown. As luck would have it, that niece was, and had been for some time, dating William's younger brother. Suddenly, worlds were colliding, and small world syndrome was in full effect somewhere in North Georgia.


William is floored by this strange connection to Tucker, while I'm still in Grand Rapids completely dumbfounded at how it was even possible to be more mindfucked than I'd already been. Tucker knows William. Tucker's NIECE IS DATING WILLIAM'S BROTHER. This isn't a random act, it was premeditated, and William's name was taken very intentionally. Why? I just don't get it. I can't process the information I'm receiving, because it just does NOT make any sense. Why William? AND WHO THE HELL IS THE MAN IN THE PHOTOS?


My phone starts buzzing uncontrollably as I sit, perpetually perplexed at the whole scope of this wild tale, and I look down to see what could POSSIBLY be happening now.


It's Tucker.

Not William...but Tucker.


I open my phone and stare at the words in front of me. A rambling confession/apology hybrid the likes of which I'd never seen. It was as if someone turned on the I Fucked Up faucet and words were gushing out at light speed. Half of the "sentences", if you could even call them that, didn't make any sense. It was one long winded run-on sentence of "I'm so sorry's" and "I hate myselfs". One after another, the texts rolled in, proclaiming stupidity and begging for forgiveness. I was too livid to even respond, surprised that at the audacity of this coward to even think forgiveness was deserved. I shook as I struggled to formulate a proper response in my head. I re-read the message, hoping I'd find the words to say to confront the person who'd hurt me so terribly over the last month.


"Hey Kayleigh. I know right now I have a whole lot to say to you. I wanna apologize to you for the awful horrible thing I have done. I know I did more bad than good bc I put you through living hell. I know how completely fucking stupid I was to do such a thing. I am a complete wreck bc I am a fucking idiot for what I did and I mean a fucking idiot but idk what I thought the reason of it was. I was fucking stupid, that's not shit you play with and I understand that clearly now bc obviously I didn't before. I hope you understand how terribly awful I feel about all this. What was the point of it, god if I know. If my family knew about this, I'd be afraid and ashamed to look at them anymore bc I know what a horrible thing I did. I pray to god that I can have your forgiveness and I be left alone about this bc I know what I did and I want to fix it. I got to good of a life ahead of me to fuck it up with stupid shit like that when it was for totally fucking bullshit for me to do in the first place."


The only thing I can muster up:

"You're right, it is total bullshit. Please explain the lengthy Facebook history - that doesn't make sense. It was clearly not a thrown together fake page, there were years worth of photos and wall posts...no way that was all made up. How did you do it? And the ex-girlfriends? How do you explain that. An apology is a start, but I need an explanation, and I need it now."


"I can't. There is no explanation. This shit happened and I got caught up in it and I'm done. I have no explanations, I wish I did but I don't. I made horrible mistakes and I know what I've done but there's no way I can explain that to you. All this shit is completely fucked up. I'm a complete idiot and all I'm trying to do is apologize and move on from all this especially by doing better bc I have a good life in front of me and I really don't want to fuck that up. So please, I hope you can forgive me. Let me move on with my life by doing better and being happy. I'm tired of being chased with all these questions because I have no answers. I wish there was something I could do to take it all back but there isn't. I'm sorry."



...scuse me what? YOU want to move on and be happy? YOU have a good life ahead of you that I should so gracious as to not mess up? YOU'RE tired of being chased with questions? What do you mean you have no answers, no explanation? You're the psychopath behind all of this - you're the ONLY person who has the answers.

(Mind you, I'm wandering through JoAnn Fabric with Jamie while this is happening, sweating my ass off in a down winter coat, even though it's frigid outside. I feel like I might throw up and my palms are sweaty and I'm pretty sure the rest of the Saturday morning customers think I may go crazy and shoot up the place because I look like a damn lunatic.)


Now I'm pissed. I respond.

"Unless you want authorities involved, you WILL deal with the questions. You realize impersonating a member of the United States Military is a federal offense, right? Start talking. Who is the man in the photos? Explain the four years worth of photos and wall posts. Explain the ex-girlfriends. Explain all of it, ALL OF IT, or I will involve police and I would NOT test me on this."


Okay, so, I probably wouldn't actually contact the police, because let's get real, "I got lied to on the internet" is not exactly grounds for a supreme court trial. However, I needed to stand my ground, make it clear that I was NOT just going away because Tucker apologized and begged forgiveness. I was going to get those answers, no matter how long I had to BS to get them.


"I know the guy in the photos personally, he is a close family friend. Yes I've done this before, but have gotten myself out of it bc I knew it was wrong. Then for some stupid reason I would do it again, but this time I wasn't as lucky (editor's note: by this, he means he never dealt with a professional internet stalker like me. SUCKAAA!!!) Do I think this is funny, no. Do I feel like shit about it, yes. I want to move on, I'm through with it. I know William personally, his brother is like part of our family. I'm so sorry, I just want this to stop."



Yeah. Me too.


This is the part where I go home, light candles, lock myself in the bathroom and sink into my giantamazingwhirpooltub. I can't think about this anymore. My brain hurts, almost worse than my heart does, and I need to mentally check out for an hour before I have a serious meltdown.

As I lay there soaking, I can't stop my mind from drifting back to Tucker. How had I been so incredibly stupid? How did I not see this coming - was I so blinded by my excitement over discovering my dream man that I didn't notice the fact that he was completely and utterly playing me for a fool? Or was he that convincing, that good at manipulation and deceit that I simply fell prey to the wiles of his ways? I just couldn't get over the Facebook thing - how on EARTH was this thorough profile even possible? Was it a possibility that this had actually been going on for as long as the profile existed? Had Tucker been masquerading around online for nearly four years, and all the relationships established on his page were purely online? This couldn't be, could it? Would a seemingly normal college student (Taylor), become wholely committed to a person she'd never met or spoke to? I couldn't fathom it, but again, I couldn't fathom any part of this situation.


I was still determined to get to the bottom of this, even after the confession was laid out in front of me. There were still secrets, still lies - I couldn't fully move on and close the door on this impossible situation without having all my questions answered. Even then, perhaps, I couldn't walk away - but I didn't stand a chance without it.

There was still one very, very important piece of the puzzle that was missing. Even if Tucker explained to me the history of the Facebook page, why this even started in the first place, why Grand Rapids if he was in Georgia, why me, why the two men whose identities were stolen...even if all those things were finally explained in full, there was one thing I couldn't let go of. The man in the pictures - who was he? And if he wasn't a crazy psychopathic liar, then did I still have a chance at nabbing my perfect man? If he was out there, somewhere, there was still a chance I could find him. Maybe he wasn't all of the things that "Tucker" was, on paper...but maybe, just maybe - he was.


I changed my tune in my responses to Tucker - shifting from accusatory and angry to understanding and calm. I offered forgiveness, admitting that I'd made mistakes too, albeit none of which involved impersonating two dudes on the internet - but still, I acknowledged that good people made mistakes. Once I did, the communication started flowing. Conversation came more easily, and explanations started to materialize. I had Tucker right where I wanted him, and I was ready to make my next move. Carefully selecting my words, I crafted a plea for the name of this handsome identity theft victim. I wanted to know him - I NEEDED to know him. I typed my request cautiously, addressing my definitely-not-Tucker, uncovered and outed perpetrator for the first time ever by his real name.






"I need to know who the person in the photos is. All the hell you've put me through, I think I deserve to know the person I thought I'd fallen for all this time."







"I can't tell you his name. I need to apologize to him first. I need to be the one to tell him what happened, its only right. Once I tell him, I will tell you."







"That's not enough. I need to talk to him, and I can't wait for you to find the courage to speak up about what you did. What is his name?"







"I promise to tell you. Just not yet, let me talk to him in person first. I can't let him find out from anyone else or he will never talk to me again."























"Please, I'm begging you. Hannah, I have to know."

Tucker #11: You've Been Struck By A Smooth Criminal.

RAISE YOUR HAND if you saw that coming. Did you? If you did, you're keener than I, because I got hit over the head with the what the fuck stick REAL hard. Like this:



That Rafiki's a real asshole. Also the Lion King is the best movie ever made, no questions.



Because I jumped ahead a little, let's back up a second shall we? When William sent me the link to the Facebook page of our culprit, I stared at my screen, slackjaw and speechless, one hundred percent blindsided by what I'd just been told.

You've GOT to be kidding me. I've been talking to a GIRL? A GIRL!?! I couldn't believe it was possible - couldn't believe I'd been been fooled this badly. I struggled to comprehend the hows and whys of the unfolding conclusion to my dramatic internet romance, still unable to process the truth behind Tucker. How did she pull this off? How did I fall for it? How had she carried on so long without slipping up? And, most troublingly, WHY did she pretend to be this man?

William, bless his heart, was acting as our liaison, skipping back and forth between my conversation with him, and his with Hannah. He tried calming me down, knowing how irate I was at this imbicile who had so skillfully duped me into falling for her online persona. I was furiously texting Hannah, threatening to involve authorities and demanding I know every last detail of her secret life as Tucker Evans. William begged me to take a deep breath, reminding me we were dealing someone who, whether we liked it or not, was connected to his family via his younger brother. This wasn't simply a random act of internet fraud - the perpetrator was someone who KNEW this family, and wasn't easily shrugged off as a psychopathic freak.

I actually grew angry at William. How could he possibly defend this monster? Hours before, he was determined to hunt down the man behind this impostor situation and end it once and for all - but now, he was asking me to retract, to cut her some slack, and to let it go. Let it go? How could I possibly walk away from the biggest act of deceit I'd ever experienced? How could HE walk away, when it was his name that was attached to this fabricated character? I didn't understand why no one seemed to be as upset as I was over this situation. I didn't understand why I was suddenly alone, at the end of this journey, with nothing to show for it.

After numerous attempts to garner an explanation from Hannah, I came to terms with the fact that I would not be receiving the answers I'd hoped for. I would never know how she did it, how many people she lied to, or how she got away with it for so long. While she did explain pieces to me, after I began my "let's be friends" approach, I still never fully got the hows and whys I so desperately needed to hear. I knew the end of the story, but I felt like the culmination was incomplete. There were still questions, and a disconcerting lack of answers.



A few days passed after the revelation of Tucker's true identity. I had some time to go over what I'd learned, and to try to come to terms with the whole thing. My close friends were godsends, listening to me rehash the whole story time and again, grasping for any sort of comfort in finally having the truth. I still struggled with the unanswered questions, despite everyone around me seeming to be content with closing the book on Tucker. I needed to know why. I needed to know how. I needed to find the beautiful man in those photos and tell him what was going on. Perhaps the draw to my mystery man was the one piece of the puzzle I still needed to uncover before I could fully accept and move on from this bizarre tale. I set out to find him, determined to uncover his identity no matter how long it took. I found Hannah, so it couldn't be that hard to find someone who ACTUALLY existed, right?

I hadn't talked much with Hannah since the day she confessed and apologized. I was frustrated still, and wanted to distance myself from her as much as possible. No matter how much I wanted to erase her from my life, though, she was the only chance I had at ever uncovering the identity of my future husband. I texted her, inquiring about the status of her promised confession to this man, hoping to reignite our previous conversation about his identity. Surprisingly, it worked.

Hannah couldn't stop gushing about Tucker (as he was referred to in our conversations). She told me about his friendship with her brother in law and sister, and mentioned multiple times what a close friend he was of her and her family. She often referred to him as her "big brother", and seemed to talk about him as though she had some girly childhood crush. She wistfully wished she was older, or he was younger, as she would have pursued him, she claimed. Hannah couldn't stop talking about what a wonderful person he was - an honest, good, loving man who had great friends and family, and lived a wonderful, happy life. It was strange to hear her talk about him - it was exactly how I'd pictured Tucker when I first came across his dating profile. The way Hannah spoke of him was nearly identical to the way I'd spoken of him to my friends all those weeks ago. I can't describe exactly the emotions I felt during this conversation, but intrigue and excitement most certainly topped the list. The further she gushed, the more I became determined to find him.

I managed to coyly sneak in an inquiry about his relationship status, and felt my heart race when she gleefully reported he was single. That was the only thing I needed to hear, and Mission: Uncover Tucker was full speed ahead. I only needed a name - first name, last name, anything. I needed a clue. I had all the information from the dating profile, but without a name, I had nothing.

This wasn't the first time I'd looked for Tucker's photogenic face. I'd tried everything - searching through Auburn Baseball rosters for old photos, looking through Auburn alumni pages for a snapshot of MBA grads. I went so far as to use a website designed to help photographers protect their copywritten images - a website that performs a "reverse image search", looking for places where identical pictures are posted on the internet. None of Tucker's pictures turned up any results - no Facebook page, nothing. Without his name, I'd reached yet another dead end, and I wasn't going to just walk away now. I'd worked so hard, and come so far, I could feel the real ending just beyond my grasp, and you'd better believe I was going to get there.


It took hours of texting Hannah, buttering her up, reassuring her I wasn't angry with her and had moved on, promising to defend her to a very angry Megan. I sweet talked her like nobodies business and she was slowly turning into putty in my hands, answering more and more questions about my future husband and continuing her gushfest over how absolutely perfect and incredible he was. The more she glorified him, the more I told her exactly what she needed to hear to make her feel like I was on her side. I promised Hannah I trusted her to make her confession to Tucker on her own, that I simply needed to put a name to a face for my own sanity. I begged her from the bottom of my heart, playing on her need for forgiveness and explaining that I just couldn't fully forgive, forget, and move on until I came to peace with the identity of this person. It took hours, but she caved. Finally, after days of searching and manipulating the person who'd put through hell, I had a name. Hannah only gave me a first name, as she knew I couldn't resist the urge to find him and tell him everything. Clearly she forgot who she was dealing with, and it never occurred to her that a first name was the only thing I needed to unlock this mystery.


Armed with a name - Blake - I returned to my stalkings, fully prepared to finally find the man who may or may not be my unknowing soulmate. PS, can we talk about how weird that is? Can you imagine receiving a message from a total stranger, informing you they know everything about you and fully intend on marrying you someday? God I'm a creep. Anyway, my first step was right back to Auburn Baseball. There's a nifty website called FanBase that allows you to search rosters for most major college sports teams, and thankfully Auburn was a prominent enough school, that the last 30+ years of baseball rosters were available. As it turns out, there is not a single "Blake" who played baseball at Auburn. Ever. Strike One. I decide this must be the part where Hannah padded his dating resume a tad, and the man actually never set foot in a dugout. My next shot was the MBA graduating classes at Auburn, where his profile told me he'd earned the aforementioned degree. I combed the alumni site, the College of Business site, the Auburn Grad School site - anywhere a name or picture might turn up to give me a last name to go by. Nothing. Searching Auburn's general website with that first name turned up results that got me nowhere. Strike Two.


I began to question how much of the dating profile was even true. Clearly Hannah was a pathological liar, so even though she assured me the information was accurate, I began to get a sinking feeling that it wasn't. His degree and career weren't the reason I fell for him. I really could care less if he played baseball, although I wouldn't be mad if he trotted out the old college uniform a time or two...cowboys and baseball players - tight pants, don't hate it. Emo guys in skinny jeans, this rule does not apply to you. Lay off the eyeliner, freaks. Neither of these things was the reason I fell for him, no - but if that was false, what else was? Did he have a great relationship with his family like he claimed? Did he go to church and love Jesus? Was he a fan of the outdoors and laid back country life? How much of this guy was a lie? I felt defeated, for the umpteenth time, and started to accept the fact that I would never know who this handsome stranger was.


Late one Saturday night, days after giving up hope during my intial Blakefest, in the midst of an Always Sunny marathon on the floor of a dear friend's home, I got the strange urge to look for Blake again. I turned, this time, to trusty Facebook. If anything could help me track this man down, it was that. I had a name and a face in my satchel, and a whole lot of nothing else to go on when I clicked on the "search" button. "Blake" was the only thing I typed in - it was all I had. Facebook gave me a list of people I might know, but of course he wouldn't be amongst them. Let's not forget I'm a total stranger here folks. I narrowed my search to "people", eliminating fan pages, celebrities, restaurants and bands, and leaving me with only personal facebook pages. From there, I had the luxury (God bless you, Facebook) of further narrowing my search by three options: location, education, and work place.

I attempted to narrow my search to Georgia, but clearly was swamped with results far too numerous to wade through. I typed "Rome, Georgia" into the location field, and pulled up a shortened list, but was disappointed to find no one who looked like they resembled Captain Sexy. I decided to forego the location route, and focus on the education track. I already knew he didn't play baseball at Auburn, and seemingly didn't get an MBA there either, so I wasn't too hopeful when selecting the University from my search options. Again, I was presented with a list longer than the mangy hair of 90% of the OWS protestors. Why the hell did EVERYONE who had a male child in the south, between 1987 and 1992 name their child Blake? RUDE. My final chance in this arena was the additional option to enter a graduation year. Would he have chosen his undergrad year? His MBA grad year? Would he even have entered a year? I hadn't on my page, why would he? A little math told me 2003 was my go-to, and I plugged it in.




Four listings appeared.







Sure as shit, there he was. Staring back at me with those familiar blue eyes and crooked smile. My heart was palpitating (Mrs. Tyink, I hope you're reading this) and I got that same sweaty palms, might throw up, butterflies doing the Thriller dance in my stomach kind of feeling. Here he was. I FOUND HIM.














...now what?

Tucker #12: I'm In Love With Judas, Baby.

I sat there, staring at my computer screen at the face of the man I thought I'd been lusting over for nearly two months. My mind was racing as I tried desperately to come up with the appropriate words to say to him. Do I tell him the whole story, laying out all of the twists and turns, the impossible details, and the labarynth of lies upfront?

Do I send him a teaser, only offering a little bit of information and asking him to contact me for the rest of the story? Do I simply add him as a friend, hope he accepts, and strike up a casual conversation? Should I even TELL him what's going on, but add him as a friend and pray to the gods of internet dating that the face of my former lover is just as perfect as his impersonated counterpart? Perhaps I should just profess my undying love from the get-go and lay it all on the line, crossing my fingers and hoping for the best?

I decided to forego the creepy stalker route for once, afraid the brutal honesty approach was probably NOT the best policy in this case. I wanted Blake to WANT to talk to me, not contact Facebook authorities begging for them to remove the crazy stalker who was sending him links to her Pinterest board full of wedding ideas, dress photos, and ring images. Instead, I decided to be direct, to the point, and all business-like about the whole thing, in order to present myself as a completely sane person...while informing him his identity had been stolen and I fell in love with the fake version of him.

...right.


"Hi Blake- This is, shockingly, the least strange e-mail I've had to send in the last week, but no matter how normal this has become for lately, it's going to be weird for you, so bear with me.

You don't know me, but I have something pretty serious I need to discuss with you. It's nothing you did, but more a case of stolen identity, you being the victim. I feel like this is something you need to be aware of immediately.

Please send me a message when you've read this - I'll explain everything in detail, but it's probably better suited for a phone conversation than an e-mail.

To prove I'm not just spouting randomness for the sake of it, I've attached a few of the pictures that I received, texted to my cell phone, this past weekend. If for some reason this isn't you, by all means ignore this...but I'm willing to bet just about anything that it is.

Please get in touch with me as soon as you can - you can find me here, or feel free to give me a call at xxx.xxx.xxxx.

-Kayleigh"


I was nervous to hit "send", rereading my own words a dozen times, tweaking them just so, and praying what had become my day-to-day lately would somehow sound believable to this total stranger. I must have started over at least ten times, never sure of how exactly to approach this man. Writing him was so strange - I knew SO much about him, but he had no idea I even existed. It was like in the fifth grade when I wrote a love letter to Lance Bass of NSYNC, outlining my undying adoration for him and praising his musical prowess. I reassured him he was far more attractive than Justin Timberlake, and even though JT was everyone's favorite, I would never stop loving my Lance. Naturally he turned out to be gay, so I should have known this was a bad idea, but nonetheless, I pressed on. Once I was finally satisfied with my first attempt at communication with Blake, I pressed send.

My heart pounded, and I stared at the screen anxiously for the next hour, waiting for the little blue icon to light up at the top of my page, telling me Blake had replied.

Of course, that didn't happen.

It didn't happen, in fact, for more than a week. That week was the worst week of my life. Everyone had moved on from the Tucker scandal...everyone except me. I wasn't done with this, why the hell did everyone else seem to think it was over? The person who should have been the most angry about the situation had no idea it was even happening, but everyone else involved had decided everything was hunky dory again. I still was not okay with the situation. I was not okay with the fact that I'd been so terribly lied to, that the truth was not entirely known to all those involved, and that the man of my dreams WAS IGNORING MY GODDAMN FACEBOOK MESSAGE.

I actually began to harbor anger toward Blake. Why wasn't he responding? I knew he'd read the message, actually. See, when I sent it, I'd also sent a friend request - because I couldn't resist an open opportunity to be creepy, and you know it. The day after I'd sent the message - Sunday - my phone alerted me that he'd accepted the friend request. When I noticed the alert, a few hours had passed. I went to further stalk his Facebook page, and found that we were not, in fact, friends - and I had the option to "add" him again. You know what this means, right? He confirmed my request, THEN DELETED ME. What an asshole! He clearly read the message and:

A) Didn't believe me
B) Didn't give a rat's ass

I chose to believe it was option A because who seriously is okay with their face being all over the internet, I mean really. So, naturally, I sent him another message - you know, just to make sure he knew I meant business.


"Blake- Clearly you've read this and think I'm out of my mind...I don't blame you.

Maybe this will help explain what I'm talking about: http://www.okcupid.com/profile/WilliamsTckr81 The Facebook profile with hundreds of pictures of you, your friends, and your family has been deleted, unfortunately, but this still exists.

I talked to this person, for almost a month, believing I was talking to someone named Tucker Evans. After "Tucker" refused to speak on the phone and always had excuses for why we couldn't meet for dinner or something, I grew suspicious and started digging.

It took about a dozen people a month or so of Google investigations and Facebook stalking, but this weekend I finally figured out who was behind the Tucker story.

Again, there's much more to it than this - down to the recordings I was sent of "Tucker" singing (Gavin DeGraw, David Nail, Marc Broussard...). Apparently this was you...you've got skills, good work! Unfortunately, again, I thought Tucker was singing me to sleep when all along it was someone using your life.

I know who the person using your identity is, and I'm happy to tell you everything. Its someone you know, and they confessed to using all these pieces of a friend's life. I received a confession yesterday, and finally got your first name, after demanding to know whose pictures, songs, and life I thought I knew. A little Facebook searching (the poser confessed that your age and Auburn attendance were true), it was simple to find the person I'd been calling Tucker for months.

Blake I am far from some crazy girl messaging you out of the blue! I've been stressed out over figuring out who was lying to me this whole time for way too long now. Trust me it took a lot of work to get to the bottom of this, and I'm so glad I can finally stop searching for answers. Now that I finally know the truth, I thought you should know as well. If I was being impersonated online, I would absolutely want to be made aware.

I'm so sorry that this is even happening - trust me I wish I'd never seen a picture of you! I just want you to be aware of what's going on, so it will stop. At least three girls that we know of have had relationships of some sort with a man we thought to physically be you...not okay.

I hope to hear from you so we can all put this behind us for good.

-Kayleigh"


Boom.


Problem solved, right?


WRONG.


That asshole STILL never responded. Rude.


I gave up, yet again, tossing in the proverbial towel and again deciding I just wasn't going to get any further. I'd done everything I could do, and short of marching down to Rome, Georgia and showing up on this poor man's doorstep, there was no way I was going to convince him to believe me. The ball was in his court now - if he couldn't look at all the evidence I'd provided him, and believe that I was telling him the truth, there was nothing more I could do.

If he simply didn't care enough to respond to me, then I suppose he deserved to have his face plastered all over the internet. If he couldn't even have the decency to thank me for tipping him off to the damage Hannah was causing his reputation, unbeknownst to him, then screw him, he didn't deserve my undying love and affection anyway.






It wasn't til a week later that my phone chirped a good morning to me, informing me that I had a new Facebook message.








It was Blake.







"Is this real, or is this a scam?"







Oh, honey. It's a scam alright - I got scammed and I got scammed good. But this scam is for real, it's happening, and it's not going away. Sweet sweet southern man...you have no idea just how real this is.

Tucker #13: Call Me, Call Me, Any, Any Time.

Happy Saturday, Friends!

I hope you've enjoyed a few days of recuperating from your busy lives with the aid of gluttonous amounts of food, drinking before noon, and sleeping until it's time to eat/drink again. I've napped more this weekend than I did my entire preschool career, which is pretty impressive. I think I've played more games of euchre this weekend, drank more cranberry margaritas, and ate more different kinds of "hey I killed this" game meat than ever before, and I couldn't be happier.

Before we jump back into Tuckermania, I have two very big favors to ask of you. First, could ya pop on over to our Facebook page and give us a "like"? Second, a few loyal Tucker fans have put the bug in Ellen's ear about our little blog, and her people want to know more! We'd love to tell the Tucker story on Ellen - and I know you want to see all your favorite Tucker characters, live and in the flesh, in the same room for the first time ever, AMIRITE? In order for this to happen, we've got to make a little noise - go pay Ellen's site a visit, and use her "Send Ellen an E-mail Form" (just click here), to tell her about the Tucker story. Describe the blog however you like, just make sure to include the blog address so she can come check it out for herself! Andy is her right-hand-email-reading-man, so feel free to address the both of them when you write. Thanks in advance for your help - YOU guys are the reason I'm still in sweatpants, writing this post right now. Love you long time.



WHEW. Okay, back to business.


I know it's been a few days, so let's recap a little, shall we? When we last chatted, I'd e-mailed Blake - the "face of Tucker" - a few times on Facebook. I knew he'd read my messages, since he'd accepted my friend request, then promptly deleted me (?!) like a real d-bag. I was frustrated that he couldn't be bothered to respond to this monumental hunk of information I'd presented him with, and was about to write him off completely when I received a response in my inbox. He questioned the validity of my claim - inquiring if what I said was real, or if it was a scam.


When I first received this message, I was flabbergasted. A scam?! Why the hell would I make this up? What on EARTH could I stand to gain by pretending someone was pretending to be Blake but also pretending to have Tucker's name. My head hurt just trying to understand where this guy was coming from. Who does he think he is, accusing me of lying about this? I actually felt insulted - this had become such a huge part of my life over the last month and a half, and this guy waltzes in, and has the audacity to suggest I might be bluffing. RUDE. As I was concocting a trite response to this outlandish accusation, I realized that maybe Blake had a point. We've all seen those Facebook posts claiming "OMG IS THIS YOU?!" with a link attached that opens a terrible virus on your computer and posts pictures of naked women and the world's largest zit all over FB. I suppose he was somewhat justified in not believing me - especially when I remembered just how insane the story sounded. I had a quick attitude adjustment, and responded to Blake's message, hoping to calm his nerves and remove his suspicions.

"Hey Blake...it's real. Trust me I wish it wasn't, but it is 100%. I know it sounds crazy, because it is. If it was a scam, I couldn't tell you that Hannah Johnson was behind the whole thing...pretending to be you for at least two years, maybe longer. She used your photos and everything about your life....I have recordings of you singing on my phone that she sent to me. She used another guy's name, but the rest is all you. I know it's insane...i know. The only reason I tracked you down is because I thought you should know your face was all over the internet and someone was using your likeness to have relationships with girls."


Blake responded quickly, still clearly tentative about believing the absurdities he was reading. He questioned everything - asking for names, phone numbers, internet links. He asked me to give him a rundown of the story (again!?), and I obliged, understanding he was walking into this for the very first time, and was certainly just as confused and bewildered as I'd been as the tale was unfolding. I grew frustrated with the never ending interrogation, but patiently answered question after I'm-about-to-lose-it question. I had to admit how I'd found Blake in the first place, revealing my unbelievable creepy ability to stalk out just about anyone on Facebook, and probably nearly destroying my chance of ever talking to this man again, but I couldn't let him walk away NOT believing this was real. I laboriously waded through the murky details of how I found Tucker, how he was connected to Hannah, how I knew Hannah was connected to Blake, and how on earth I ever stumbled across her in the first place. It was almost painstaking to rehash every single detail of the story, but question by question I responded as best I could, determined to make Blake a believer.


Blake and I went back and forth via Facebook messages for about an hour - he'd ask questions, I'd give answers. I was beginning to think he'd never believe me - and who could blame him? Suddenly, a phone number appeared in my inbox, with an invitation to give him a call. I wasn't sure what I'd said to finally convince him I was being truthful, but there it was.


You'd think, by now, I'd be fairly used to dialing up a complete stranger and talking to them about this story. I'd done it with Megan, with Tucker, and even with Hannah - why should Blake be any different? I was unexplainably paralyzed - I couldn't get my brain and my fingers to coordinate and press "call" button. I felt that all-too-familiar stomach drop go into effect as I stared at the ten digits before me. What would I say to him? I'd already explained the ENTIRE story in greuling detail - what else did we have left to discuss? Should I tell him about the blog that I'd already started to write? Would he be furious that, on top of the fact that his face was all over the interwebs already, I was writing about it and airing my (/our) dirty laundry to the entire cyber universe? Would he simply ask for some more details to satisfy his curiosity, then never speak to me again? My brain was racked with questions and hesitations - and I knew they all boiled down to one thing.


The moment I found out Hannah was..well..Hannah, one of my first initial thoughts was that my dream man was suddenly thrust back into the realm of possibility. While I didn't know exactly how much of the profile that had caught my attention was true, I now knew "Tucker" (/Blake) existed somewhere, and he wasn't a goddamn lunatic. Now, as I sat in my car unable to press "send", I stared at the phone number in front of me and realized why I was so unable to function. For the first time, I would hear Tucker's voice. I would speak to him, voice-to-voice, not in a text message or Facebook chat, but as close to "in person" as I'd ever been. I was about to have a verbal conversation with the person I, on whatever level, fell head over heels for all those weeks ago. This number was my DaVinci Code that I'd worked so hard and so long to find. I never expected this would be the outcome when I sent that OkCupid message so long ago, and it terrified me to break through the very barrier that told me something was very wrong from the beginning.


A whole new slew of questions erupted in my mind as I sat there, trying to work up the courage to call Blake. How would I feel when I heard his voice? Would he think I was crazy, weird, or stupid because of my role in this whole process? Would he want to know me, after all of this? Would he be on my side, or would he defend Hannah like Tucker seemed to? Would he be angry, confused, scared, or some weird hybrid like I had been? Would he blame me, and be angry with me for putting him in the midst of this situation?


I sat there, shivering, giving myself a pep talk and rallying by myself in the car. I could do this - I just needed to leave my emotions at home, and go into this 100% business. I needed to tell Blake the details, and leave it at that. I needed to be there to answer his questions, to talk to him through all the confusion, and to help him however he decided to proceed. I needed to be purely objective, a resource, a teammate. I picked up my phone, and pressed the green button, then waited anxiously as the ringing purred in my ear.


When Blake answered the phone, my heart stopped beating. Only for a moment, sure - but it stopped. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel that rush of emotion coming back, even though I'd been so determined to leave it behind. I'm certain I sounded like a bumbling fool for the first few minutes of our chat, and to be honest, I can't even remember what was said. From what I remember of this conversation, it consisted mainly of the same disbelief that was shared between myself and Megan, and Tucker as well. It was the same rehashing of events, swapping "oh my gods" and "you've got to be kiddings", and trying to figure out exactly what to do next.


The thing I remember most about this conversation, was how quickly I felt entirely at ease talking to Blake. He listened patiently, asked questions, and shared in my conglomeration of feelings toward Hannah and the situation as a whole. He offered a very different perspective, sharing that he'd only met Hannah a few times - certainly NOT the "big brother" and "close family friend" she'd portrayed him to be. He was close to her sister and brother in law, and seemed to be absolutely blindsided by the situation. I felt for him. For the first time, I forgot how hurt I'd been by the situation, and felt utterly horrible for Blake's unbeknownst role in this unfolding tale. I realized that, while I'd been lied to for a few months, Blake had been paraded around as a dreamboat, perfect man, to who knows how many people across the country. I couldn't imagine the feelings he was experiencing, and immediately knew every second I agonized over trying to find him was worth it. He needed to know this was happening - he needed to be able to stop it - he was the only person that had the power to do so.


Our conversation lasted about fifteen minutes, and we both went our separate ways to further mull over the words we'd just exchanged. I felt relieved - so glad I'd finally been able to share the story with the one person who most needed to be aware of the situation. I felt anxious - eagerly anticipating Blake's next move, and curious as to exactly how he would choose to handle the situation. Perhaps most strangely, though, I felt empty. Now, finally, Tucker was over. He was gone. It was done. I'd spent two months searching, digging, and investigating. What was there left to do now? I had come to the end of my part of this journey - the rest was in the hands of someone I barely knew. Aside from offering descriptions to whomever Blake decided to talk to, my role here was finished. I also felt like I'd said goodbye to someone very important in my life.


I can't describe the feelings I had about Blake that day. I was relieved that he was sweet, light hearted, and calm about the situation. I was so glad he believed my story, and seemed willing to do whatever it took to make sure it didn't happen again, and that Hannah was confronted for what she did. He was easy to talk to, made me laugh in light of a terrible situation, and was genuinely grateful for my amateur CSI work in solving this mystery and tracking him down. I still was unsure what came next - would I ever hear from him again? Was the situation far too strange to allow a relationship to ever blossom with my perfect stranger?


I got home that night, and decided to try my hand at a Facebook friendship with Blake again, ya know, now that he knew I wasn't a raging psychopath trying to infiltrate his Facebook page with porn viruses. It didn't take him long to accept my friend request this time. Of course, immediately upon receiving the notification, I made a beeline for his profile to fully get my stalk on.


I was, per usual these days, that too-familiar blend of nervous, excited, and on the verge of throwing up as I ventured to my future husband's page.







That sweet, crooked smile grinned at me from his profile picture, and I felt those butterflies rushing back - the same butterflies I'd felt when I first saw that smile on OkCupid.







His profile seemed completely normal - full of friends, wall posts, pictures, and the like.







There was only one tiny glitch in my plan for my perfect future.







As I glanced over the information at the top of his home page, a heart shaped icon caught my eye.







My future husband...was engaged.






Son of a bitch.

Tucker #14: Hello? Is It Me You're Looking For?

HELLO? Oh, Lionel. Who hurt you? WHO HURT YOU LIONEL RICHIE?

(Guest post alert! Everybody say hi to Blake, welcome him to the blog, and listen up as he tells you HIS side of the story)

Here I am!

Oh, wait, there I am.

Hold up, where the hell am I?


Is this Kansas, Texas, Florida, or Michigan?

It seems like I have been popping up in more random places than the elusive Carmen San Diego, yet I haven’t even left my safe and secure nest, tucked away right here in Northwest Georgia.

Wow! Where to begin? I am truly blessed to have not had to explain and relive this story, as my Michigan girlfriend, Kay, and her talented, artistic, writing abilities took care of all that for me. Seriously, y’all, who isn’t impressed by her skills? She could have been writing about Grimace and the Hamburglar stealing another Big Mac, and we would have all been glued to the edges of our seats. Just as you all have been so patiently following this tale, one that seems closer to folk-lore than truth, I too was floored by the events of the past 8 weeks. I mean, how would you react?

Most of my friends didn’t really seemed to be that amazed or surprised. Apparently “stuff” just happens to me – it’s hard to explain, but I’ve been told drama just seems to find me, particularly in the relationship department. But, not this kind of stuff! This is the kind of story that Lifetime fabricates for their ridiculous movies about love and heartbreak and the crazy circumstances in between, not the stuff that happens to real people in real life. Even I didn’t believe all of this at first. When I read Kay’s message, I was skeptical and interrogated her like a job interview for hours before I finally believed she was for real, and gave her my phone number. It all seemed too crazy to be true. Who would pretend to be someone else for that long?

The day that the hunt for Tucker was finally over, the day that I was eventually “tracked” down, was the single most nerve wracking, gut wrenching day of my life. Yea, you think you can relate? I gave myself an ulcer within 12 hours, and was literally sick for 2 days. I didn’t know if I should call the cops on the cute psycho from Michigan, who was professing her ever so growing love for me (well, the “fake” me, I guess). Or, did I report the person who had literally stolen everything about me, except my financials, thank God…that was the first thing I checked. Like a kid at Christmas, I did not sleep a wink that night, terrified that I was going to be cut up into tiny pieces and eaten. For every noise I heard, I got up and squirmed, and felt sick to my stomach. I spent my sleepless night crafting my own investigation, and research. I had to find out everything I could about this girl in Michigan, so that I could identify every logical possibility why she was wrong, and prove the girl I knew here in Rome, was not behind all this. The one thing I couldn’t get over was why Hannah had chosen ME. Why was my life worth stealing? I couldn’t figure out why I was the one who had gotten roped into all of this, and why I had to now deal with all the circumstances in front of me. Why me? WHY me?

By the time I got to work on Monday morning, I figured since I made it through the night uneaten, I was going to be safe and I had better start taking control of the situation. I talked to Kay time and time again, via text, and phone, so that I knew everything she knew. By this time, she had completely convinced me, through all the details of the story, reverse phone number searches, and her knowledge of the connection between Hannah and William that she was not psycho. I was trying to find a hole in her story to prove to myself she was making this up, but unfortunately, she was entirely out of this world truthful with me.

As Kay mentioned, Hannah’s brother in law is one of my closest friends. Now that I knew this whole disaster was true, I was face to face with one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do…confront my friend about his sister in law’s crazy extracurricular activity on the internet. All I could do was tell him the truth and hope he didn’t hit me or think I was crazy. I sat there in front of him and began the story just as it was told to me. I was nervous, and tried to recall all the details as Kayleigh had told them to me. He stared at me blankly, obviously trying to put together everything I was rambling about. The look on his face wasn’t just confusion though, it was different, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

He stopped me about five minutes into my story and made a confession. Tucker’s family had already confronted them about the situation. The two families were already connected, because of Hannah’s niece and Tucker’s brother’s relationship. My friend had already been told what was going on, and heard the whole story. What he didn’t know, and the reason for his disbelief, was that the person behind all the photos was me. He couldn’t believe the crazy connections between everyone in this twisted story went even further than they already had, and here he was looking at the person his sister in law had been impersonating for years.

Telling the story was helpful. It was good to get it off my chest, and to someone who knew Hannah and could somewhat understand the situation better than someone who wasn’t involved at all. I’d made it through what I thought was going to be the hardest part, except I realized that just because I’d told my story, didn’t make it go away. This thing wasn’t over, and I was still facing multiple hurdles in the days or weeks to come. There were still a lot of people I needed to talk to, and I still had a lot of questions, mostly for Hannah. There were a lot of dead-ends that Kay couldn’t totally explain, and it bothered me that I didn’t know all of the answers. I had finally come to grips with the situation, but realized for one of the first times in my life I had absolutely NO clue what to do next.

Tucker #15: Where We Gonna Go From Here?

Geez, friends, it's been a minute! I hope everyone had a magnificent Thanksgiving and you're all caught up on everything you slacked off on at work last week.

Wheels have been turning over here at Tucker Diaries. We got a facelift! Whaddya think? Like it? Hate it? Don't care, just want me to quit fiddling with shit and get back to writing? Right. Heard that.



Big thanks to my main man Blake for popping over with a blog post of his own on Sunday! Believe it or not, he came up with that all on his own - funny words and everything. No wonder I love that kid.


I was debating about how to go forward with this whole thing. What do I talk about now that the cat's out of the bag and everyone knows I fell in love with a dude, who was actually a girl, who lived in Georgia? I feel like everything else is sort of anticlimactic after that little nugget was revealed, don't you? Once I shared with my small circle of in-the-know friends that Hannah was Tucker, it seemed as though it was a case-closed, move-on, get-over-it kind of deal. You would think that would be the way to go, but if you haven't figured it out already, I'm not exactly good at letting good enough be.


See, I had my "answers", more or less. I knew the culprit, and even met the man I thought I'd fallen in love with...nevermind the fact that he turned out to be engaged. I'd spoken with William about the situation, filled Megan in on the conclusion, and finally hunted Blake down to tell him the story. If there were a checklist of things to do and people to talk to after finding out you were the victim of a lesbian love affair, I'm pretty sure I completed it with flair. All that aside, though...I wasn't satisfied.


Anyone who knows me, which by now includes all of you, knows I can't rest on my laurels when there's something bugging me. If I want to know something, I'll find a way to piece it together - obviously because I started this whole manhunt in the first place. I didn't have a problem putting a plan into action and getting down to business when I needed to find some closure. The problem was...I wasn't even sure what exactly I was looking for now. Did I need more from Hannah? Was her confession and explanation not enough? Did I need to spend more time talking to William or Megan, discussing the thing to death until I felt like I'd come to terms with this? Did it have something to do with Blake? Did I need to talk to HIM more, and find out what he was thinking? Maybe I was searching for some sort of poetic justice to put a cap on this bottle of bullshit for good. Whatever it was, it was bugging me, and I couldn't shake the fact that there was some other stone still left unturned.


Once I'd revealed Tucker's true identity to my friends and family who were privy to the situation from the get-go, there was a resounding chorus of one single word that came from each and every person who found out the truth. WHY. Everyone wanted to know why. As you already gathered from my previous conversation with Hannah, immediately after her confession, I didn't have an answer for them. She wouldn't answer my questions, only gave me snippets here and there, but we never really discussed why this happened in the first place. What provoked her to start this crazy train? What happened to this girl to make her think that creating an entire fake life, and carrying it on for YEARS, would solve her problems? I knew I couldn't let this rest until I found out exactly why Hannah had begun her journey as Tucker, nearly four years ago.


On a cold Sunday night in Grand Rapids, I was hiding under the covers in my roommate's bed, watching Desperate Housewives and enjoying being blissfully ignorant of anything Tucker/Blake/Hannah related for the first time in days. My phone lit up, telling me I'd gotten a text from Hannah. I'd finally gotten around to changing her contact info in my phone, considering I had at least three people now who had, at one point, been Tucker on some level in my mind. Hannah asks if she can call me. I'm taken aback, and ask why, to which she responds she owes me a better apology, and would like to talk to me "in person", with a phone call. At first, I have no interest. Why would I want to speak to the person who lied to me the way she did? I didn't want her to have the satisfaction of hearing my voice. On the other hand, I knew this was my only shot at getting some semblance of a logical explanation, and with that in mind, I agreed.


I shut myself in my bedroom and climbed into bed, nervous for some reason about the impending conversation. Perhaps "nervous" isn't the correct word here, but I certainly was not looking forward to having the closest thing to a face-to-face confrontation with this girl that I'd likely ever get. When my phone began to buzz with her call, I took a deep breath and answered with a hello.


I don't know what I expected Hannah to sound like - it definitely wasn't something I'd put any thought into before. I was surprised, however, to hear a strong voice on the other end of the line. I suppose I anticipated a meakness - almost an afraid, weak voice greeting me when I answered her call, but instead I was presented with a firm, almost husky southern accent on the line.


Almost immediately, Hannah seemed relaxed with me. I, again, am unsure of how I expected this conversation to go, but it was much more calm and natural than I'd guessed. Hannah began to speak to me, confidently and sure of the words she was saying. She apologized again for her actions, repeatedly using phrases like "from the bottom of my heart" and "if I could take it all back I would". She acknowledged the stupidity of her internet escapades, describing them as though it was a childish joyride she'd dabbled in for a moment before getting caught. She talked to me - apologized to me - as if she were a close friend who tore my favorite sweater when she borrowed it. She was matter of fact, and direct, but not overly emotional. It was as though she were following a protocol, carefully laid out in front of her, and following it step by step to ensure she said precisely the correct words during our conversation.


At first, I didn't say much. I didn't know WHAT to say. I had already extended forgiveness to her, when I was gunning for more information about Blake. Though I was laying it on a little thick at the time, I really did mean what I said to her - I wasn't still angry with her for what happened, and I had forgiven her for her actions. What confused me, was Hannah's apparent lack of understanding of the depth and severity of what she'd done. She seeemed to truly believe that a verbal apology would wipe the slate clean, and she could carry about her life without any further repercussions of her dirty deed. She was confused as to why Megan refused to accept her apology, and wasn't quick to forgive her. She genuinely didn't understand why this was such a BIG deal to everyone involved. To her, it was a silly game that she'd gotten a little too caught up in, but now that the secret was out, everything was hunky dory again.


When Hannah was finished with her apology, I thanked her - truly, as I was grateful she was, at the very least, taking responsibility for what she did. She could have disappeared from the face of the earth, never to be heard from again, but at least she was owning up to her mistakes with me. I didn't know how to breach the "why" subject, so it sort of stumbled out of my mouth in an awkwardly direct fashion - par for the course if you've ever had a real-life conversation with me. Couth is not exactly my forte, folks. I blurted out "BUT WHY", in middle of her third go-round with "I wish I could take it all back". She seemed surprised, but paused to answer my question.


It was as though, with those two simple words, I'd immediately transformed a phone conversation into a shrink's office. Hannah took her place lying down on the leather chaise lounge, and I relaxed into my oversized club chair behind my mahogany desk, rested my bifocals on the glass top of the wooden fixture, folded my hands and asked her "How does that make you feel?" Suddenly Hannah was a loose cannon, relaying stories of her harrowed high school years and describing the lack of friends and bounty of rejection she felt as a young teen. She told me of her flirting with the wrong side of the law, socializing with the proverbial "wrong crowd", and the struggles she faced growing up as the "unpretty one". Confession after confession poured from her mouth like the wine from the bottle of malbec I was quickly consuming listening to her talk. It was abundantly evident that the situation in front of me was not malicious - not an attempt to attack or hurt anyone to make up for someone who had done Hannah wrong. When Tucker, the alias, was born, he was an escape - a way for her to feel wanted, NEEDED, to be sought after and pursued. Tucker was a euphoric alternate reality where the doldrums of a high school reject were put to rest, and the thrills and highs of being attractive and successful took the driver's seat in the tour bus to Happyville.


I immediately felt sorry for Hannah. I felt guilty for being so angry with her upon the discovery of her real identity. For the first time, I truly let go of the risidual anger and felt concern for the poor soul on the other end of my phone conversation. This was a person who was hurting - a girl who SO desperately needed someone to talk to, that she turned to fabricating her own alternate universe where she was loved and desired by people who hung from her every word. This was not a person who was out to rectify some vendetta she had against the good looking, popular, successful people of the world. Instead, she was a lonely soul begging for a friend, pleading with someone, ANYONE, to acknowledge her for the person she was on the inside, instead of the hollow shell she'd become on the outside.


I ended the conversation with Hannah, and sat alone in my dark bedroom with my bottle of wine, once again flooded with a river of emotions and thoughts. I was completely unsure of how I was supposed to feel after our chat. The cynical, and probably more rational side of me struggled to believe any of her story, chalking it all up as yet another lie in her pathological warpath. That part of me refused to believe this girl deserved even an ounce of forgiveness, let alone sympathy. The other half of me, though, argued that Hannah deserved a second chance. The compassionate, empathetic side of me remembered being a nerdy fifth grader with huge glasses and thick bangs, and pleaded with my logical side to just give the girl a break. I couldn't truly justify either side, and felt completely conflicted.











What was I supposed to do next? Did I accept the ending to my story for what it was: a sad tale of a lonely girl searching for someone to let her into their heart? Or, did I ignore the humanist in me, and pursue whatever sort of justice I hoped to receive in this battle of wills?












Did I let Hannah go, forget she existed and let her carry on her life, hoping this experience was enough to deter her from ever trying to deceive someone like she so extensively deceived me? Or, did I find some way to make absolutely sure she was punished for the hurt, the stress, and the anger she had caused me and so many other over the last months?














At what point was it time to throw in the towel and call it a day on this? At what point should I decide enough is enough, thank my lucky stars I found out the truth, and cross my fingers Hannah was through with her manipulation and lies?















I knew there was only one person to turn to who could help me figure out exactly what was the appropriate way to resolve the situation. There was only one person who knew enough about Hannah, her family, and her situation to offer any sort of help in my quest for the right path to take in this fork in the road.













I picked up my phone, cashing in my phone-a-friend and utilizing the only lifeline I had left in this garbled game of truth or dare.















"Blake...what the hell do we do now?"