I am a straight-up Internet creep. My digital stalking skills began developing around the year 2005, the year I joined Myspace, and I've been fine-tuning them ever since.
Back in October, Martin Shkreli, the former CEO of Turing Pharmaceuticals and "Internet's most hated man," participated in a Reddit AMA. While most of the questions Shkreli answered dealt with the life-saving drug and the price he notoriously increased from $13.50 to $750, there were a few personal ones, too.
When someone asked about getting a date with him, he mentioned how ladies needed to get in a "very, very long line" because there was a "special woman" already there.
Me being me, I then went to find his Facebook page, in an attempt to see who the heck this girl was (purely out of curiosity). Unfortunately, his Facebook page was pretty private.
"Well, I'll just add him," I thought. Literally two seconds after I sent the friend request, I got a message from Shkreli himself.
Before you read the absolutely riveting conversation, you need to be aware of two things.
First of all, a male coworker was coaching me through the responses. Second of all, the original end goal of this conversation was to get a story. Nothing more. (Small and seedy isn't really my type.)
There was so much potential at the beginning, although I have never in my life just messaged a guy "hey what's up."
Guys send emojis when they're flirting, right?
It all went downhill after the emoji. There was no more excitement. I was putting in all the effort to actually make this happen. Even though I don't personally know him, I'm a self-aware, independent woman, so I began to grow uncomfortable with repeatedly messaging him.
And on November 1, my patience wore out. I've waited around for guys I actually cared about, but Martin Shkreli was certainly not one of them. Far from it. I was ready to meet up with him, and I didn't care if I sounded "too forward" or needy.
Like most people, I've been ghosted before (and I'm sure it'll happen again). I've been upset, I've texted them again, and I've come up with insane excuses about why they hadn't responded yet.
"Maybe he didn't get it." "Maybe he's just really busy with work." "Maybe he's camping and he doesn't have service." "Maybe he thought I wanted more than I do?"
No one, myself included, wants to admit to just not being liked enough.
So, yes, I was officially ghosted by Martin Shkreli. This time, however, I didn't need to come up with crazy explanations for his lack of communication. Because about a month later, he was arrested on securities fraud charges at his home in Manhattan.
It was probably for the best we didn't meet up. My parents were not too fond of the idea, even though I assured them I was a big girl and could most likely beat up Shkreli if necessary.
And I probably would've paid for the drinks because it turns out he has a few monetary issues.