The Tinder Swindler Is Not About Swindling, It’s About Desperation.

This guy is an idiot that just said “I love you” a lot.

I was told “I had to” watch this documentary. Friends from different parts of my life were raving about it. They said things like “it’s crazy.” “It’s just…nuts.”

I expected something like Tiger King, a reveal of an outrageous sub-genre of the world that feels like science fiction. But each episode leaves us in shock as we confirm that wow, this is someone’s reality, not a dream.

But that’s not The Tinder Swindler. A dorky-looking dude takes women on his private jet, alerts them “his enemies” are after him, and asks them for money.

Okay fine, I would also think a guy was a billionaire if he took me to another country for dinner on our first date. But my eyebrows would go up when he mentioned these amorphic “enemies” in his legitimate business dealings. I would cringe and run when he would text me “baby, please pawn your car. I need cash now!”

Wouldn’t I?

Enter these beautiful women that are articulate, interesting, multilingual, and smart. Therein lies the real plot, and puzzle, of this story.

How did these relatable, normal, funny women fall for this shit?

This swindler was not at all creative. He did not falsify a business, or forge currency, or generate any real capital. He told women on multiple generic texts “I love you baby [*insert kissy emoji*]” and then asked them for hundreds of thousands of dollars. He did not lean close to them in a dark alley and put his hands around them. He did not threaten them with a deep dark secret of their own. He did not kidnap a grandmother, or threaten to. He asked them for their IDs, passports, credit cards via WhatsApp texts. They sent the images.

The women even called creditors to reassure AmEx and raise credit limits for this guy. When checks bounce (not just once, but always), they willingly sent him more money. This isn’t swindling as much as it’s exploiting the female craving for relationships and our oddly instinctual desire to “take care of” something/someone helpless (what I personally attribute to misplaced maternal instinct, but that’s another topic).

The documentary ends and we are left…neutralized. The asshole guy is arrested, sort of, and his secrets are exposed by the coming together of women. So there’s a little empowerment there. But ultimately, they are all in debt forever, and he’s not, and he didn’t even steal from them. He asked. They gave. And they did it at the immense expense of their livelihood.

We get a hint, in the beginning, there is something more being said: the most-ripped-off girl gets dreamy-eyed as she explains the vision of love she had as a kid, how Disney movies shaped the narrative that a man will come and save us.

I paused the show to think.

I ran through all the movies I remember as a kid: Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast… women are trapped but beautiful, and they do absolutely nothing to save themselves. But thank goodness a handsome man comes to release them from their problems. Oh, boy!

This does something to many of us: we build a strong mental construct of a void we have that’s waiting for it to be filled by a (perfect) man. And his manifestation will not only be enjoyable but will drastically and suddenly make our lives better.

Maybe that’s why this low-IQ swindler would send base texts like “I want you to be the mother of my babies one day” right after sending “good morning.” And instead of finding this impersonal, weird, low effort, and out of place (one month after meeting a guy), these women plug him into the Savior Void and eat it up.

The swindler cements himself in this void and then does what most women instinctually respond to: he asks for help while distressed. Oh, yes, we know what to do here. We put our issues to the side and put this person centerstage. We become creative and kind and compassionate and sacrificial because honestly, that’s what good mothers do.

And we are left with a documentary that isn’t a Wolf of Wall Street rip-off-scandal-vibe, but instead a stark portrayal of what a nerdy frail guy can get away with if he keeps saying “baby I love you it’s gonna be okay” on WhatsApp messages to women with giant Savior Voids.

So to my future daughters, this is mandatory viewing. Watch with a stark and objective eye what people will do to hurt themselves in the name of helping their designated-male-savior. It's absolutely painful to realize this guy did not steal from these women. They gave him everything they had, then ten times more.

Once we assign someone as “The One who needs help,” we tend to lose the black and white boundaries we objectively know. So let’s make rules we never break: never give away your life savings. Never take out high-interest loans for someone after all their checks to you have bounced. Never let a guy text message you all day and label that “a relationship.”

Now that we have rules we shall never violate, let's look in the mirror and ask how deep our Savior Void is. And now fill it up ourselves, because we don’t need to be saved. We can live, and love it, on our own. We can have friendships, partnerships, and relationships that we interact with as peers that do not require sacrificing our livelihood to maintain.

Save the self-sacrifice for motherhood, and even then we have to learn when to let them grow up, move out, and experience life without having mom come and save them.

Tinder Swindler is disguised as something fascinating about money.

But it’s really about desperation.

It hurts because the desperation is completely unfounded, and almost brainwashed into some of us at the tender age of 4. Are we really admiring Belle’s bookshelf and appreciating her cool yellow dress? Or are we being accustomed to the idea of awaiting the man, and once he arrives he will transform us and therefore he deserves everything we have?

Ladies, earn your money, keep your money, call your girlfriends and keep them close, and fill up the Disney-and-societal-implanted Savior Void with God, or Self, or Hobbies, or Purpose.

But please, never give that space to a man, even if he has a private jet and sends you a lot of kiss-emojis on WhatsApp.