I never thought a first date could turn me into an internet villain overnight.
I’m Hailey, 28 now. This happened in spring 2024, when I was 26 and newly single after a four-year relationship. Living in Austin, working as a social media manager for a nonprofit — ironic, given what happened.
After months of healing, friends pushed me back into dating. I downloaded Hinge — the “designed to be deleted” app, full of thoughtful prompts and cute photos.
That’s where I matched with Connor.
Connor, 27, marketing coordinator, looked perfect on paper: dimples, golden retriever pics, prompts like “My love language is acts of service” and “Biggest green flag: someone who laughs at my jokes.” We messaged for two weeks — witty banter, shared love of live music and tacos, memes back and forth. He asked me out: “Drinks and tacos at my favorite spot downtown?”
I said yes.
The date was set for a Thursday night — May 16, 2024.
I got cute: sundress, curled hair, light makeup. Nervous-excited.
Met at the bar — busy, outdoor patio, string lights. He looked just like his photos: tall, khaki shorts, button-down. Big smile, hug hello.
First hour was great.
Drinks flowed, conversation easy. He was charming — asked about my job, my dog, my recent trip to Big Bend. Laughed at my stories. Paid for the first round.
Then things got… off.
He kept checking his phone. Angling it weirdly. Laughing at texts.
I asked, “Everything okay?”
He grinned: “Yeah, just work group chat being wild.”
Second round — margaritas. He ordered mine extra spicy “because you said you like heat.”
I don’t. I’d said mild.
But whatever. Date vibes.
Then he started “pranking” me.
First: fake spilled drink — jerked his glass like it was falling, laughed when I flinched.
Then: told the waiter it was my birthday — whole staff sang, I turned red.
I laughed it off — “You’re trouble.”
He said, “You have no idea.”
Third round. I was tipsy, having fun.
Then he pulled out his phone, propped it against a menu — facing us.
“Quick selfie for the memories?”
I posed, smiled.
But the screen was on live video — TikTok Live, 500 viewers already.
Title: “Worst First Date Prank Ever – She Has No Idea.”
My stomach dropped.
He whispered, “Don’t worry, it’s just a bit.”
Then he started the “pranks.”
Told the waiter I had a gluten allergy — ordered everything with bread.
Fake-called his “ex” on speaker: “Babe, I miss you” — looking at me.
Poured salt in my margarita when I went to the bathroom.
Each time, laughing, reading comments: “She’s mad lol” “Do the ring one next!”
I confronted him quietly: “Turn it off. This isn’t funny.”
He grinned: “Relax, it’s content. You’re going viral!”
I grabbed my purse.
He blocked the way: “Come on, stay for the grand finale.”
I pushed past, went to leave.
He yelled after me: “Wait! The prank is I actually like you!”
I turned back — crowd watching.
He held up a ring box — cheap plastic ring pop.
“Will you be my girlfriend?”
Phone in my face.
Comments exploding: “She’s walking out LMAO” “Ultimate rejection”
I said, loud enough for the mic: “You’re an asshole.”
Walked out.
Called an Uber, crying in the backseat.
By the time I got home, the video was everywhere.
He’d clipped it: “Disastrous Prank Date – She Stormed Out!”
10 million views in 24 hours.
My face clear — crying, saying “asshole.”
Comments brutal: “She’s overreacting” “What a b*tch” “He dodged a bullet”
Doxxed within hours — someone recognized the bar, found my Instagram from Hinge screenshots he’d posted.
DMs flooded: death threats, slut-shaming, memes of my crying face.
My work saw it — nonprofit, public-facing. Boss called: “This reflects poorly on the organization.”
Put on “administrative leave” pending review.
Friends ghosted — “Too much drama.”
Family worried — Mom cried on the phone.
Connor? Went viral — 500k new followers overnight. Brands sending PR packages. Interviews: “It was just a joke gone wrong.”
He never apologized publicly.
Private DM: “Sorry if you took it wrong. You’re cute when mad.”
I went private on everything.
Therapy twice a week.
Quit my job in June — couldn’t face the judgment.
Moved to a new city in fall 2024 — started over.
New job, new friends, no dating apps.
The video still circulates — 45 million views now.
I’m “Prank Date Girl” in meme pages.
Connor’s a full-time influencer — prank channel, million followers.
He did a “Where are they now?” video — implied I was “crazy.”
I never responded publicly.
But I’m healing.
Slowly.
Dating again — slowly, in person only.
I learned people will exploit you for content without a second thought.
And the internet doesn’t care who’s right.
It just wants the drama.
My dating app disaster didn’t just go wrong.
It went viral.
And turned one bad date into a permanent scar.
All because a guy thought my humiliation would make good “content.”
I said yes to drinks with a cute boy.
He said yes to millions of views at my expense.
Never again.
TL;DR: Matched with a guy on Hinge; great messages led to a first date. He secretly live-streamed the entire thing as a “prank date,” staged humiliations, and filmed my angry exit. The video went mega-viral (45M+ views), doxxed me, cost me my job and friends, and turned me into a meme. He gained fame; I had to move cities to escape the fallout.
