Talking to strangers online helped me feel less lonely. But I was sliding toward disaster

This First Person article is the experience of RaeAnne Ellert, who lives in Regina. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see  the FAQ. 

I was lying on my bed with my laptop one evening when a new friend request popped up on Skype. I didn’t know who it was, but I accepted out of curiosity and a love of meeting new people.

Let’s call this stranger Mark. He immediately sent me a message and we started chatting about life.

Maybe this unsolicited friend request should have rung an alarm bell in my mind. 

When I was a kid, my mom and dad had rules around chat rooms, warning me about the dangers of talking to strangers. I did listen for the first little while, but when I was 13, I started sending emails to musicians, their partners and their management. I loved it when they responded, particularly since it was a struggle to connect with my peers in the real world.

What you should know about me is that I was born with a rare genetic mutation — so rare it doesn’t have a name and is only known as duplication 10p12.33p11.23.

My disability makes it hard for me to multitask and it takes me longer to do things. I have a short stature, poor dexterity and get overwhelmed easily. Like many neurodivergent kids, I was perceived as different, and I had a hard time making friends. I loved listening to tunes, but my peers said my taste was “old people music,” which left me feeling excluded. 

At the time Mark sent me that friend request, I was in my 20s and living in a small town and had become socially isolated. My relationships with the musicians I’d corresponded with over the internet were a lifeline at that point. A musician named John from Toronto turned out to be a friend I really needed.

When I told John about the friend request on Skype, John immediately got back to me saying there were warning signs the stranger was a scammer and to block him right away. 

“But he never asked for money,” I wrote.

Mark and I had only spoken for an hour at that point.  

“That’s how they work. They will be very friendly to you, then ask you for money,” John said. 

Trusting John, I promptly blocked the stranger and kept the lesson to myself. I was confused and embarrassed, but  I was grateful that John had my best interests at heart.

I couldn’t see the irony in the moment, in the fact that like a scammer, I myself had spent years messaging people I didn’t know.