Talking to strangers online helped me feel less lonely. But I was headed towards destruction

This first-person account is the experience of Rayanne Allert, who lives in Regina. For more information on CBC’s first-person stories, please visit FAQ,

One evening I was lying on my bed with my laptop when a new friend request came through on Skype. I didn’t know who it was, but out of curiosity and a fondness for meeting new people, I accepted.

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

Perhaps this unwanted friend request might have set off alarm bells in my mind.

When I was a kid, my mom and dad made up rules regarding chat rooms, warning me about the dangers of talking to strangers. I listened for a while at first, but when I was 13, I started sending emails to musicians, their collaborators, and their management. I loved it when they responded, especially because 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 that it has no name and is known only as duplication 10p12.33p11.23.

My disability makes it difficult for me to multitask and it takes me longer to get things done. I am short, have little skill and am easily overwhelmed. Like many neurodivergent children, I was considered different and had difficulty making friends. I liked listening to tunes, but my peers said my taste was “old people’s music”, which made me feel isolated.

At the time Mark sent me the friend request, I was 20 and lived in a small town and was socially isolated. My relationships with musicians I corresponded with on the Internet were a lifeline at the time. A musician named John from Toronto turned out to be the friend I needed.

When I told John about the friend request on Skype, John immediately came to me and said that there were warning signs that the stranger was a scammer and that he should be blocked immediately.

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

Mark and I only talked for an hour at that time.

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

Trusting John, I immediately blocked the stranger and kept the lesson to myself. I was confused and embarrassed, but I was grateful that John had my best interests in mind.

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

In the depths of my isolation and depression, at one point I took things too far, continuing to message a musician even though he had asked me to stop doing so. I did irreparable damage before I realized how badly I messed up and backed out. I learned a lot about grace and forgiveness from that situation.

When I hear stories about scammers, I wonder how someone could fall for them. Then I remembered how I myself could have been an easy victim of a scammer. I live on $1,500 a month in provincial and federal assistance. Desperation can make a person do any unruly thing. Like it can be lonely.

But I found a way.

My support workers were encouraging me to go out more, and I started traveling to Regina to attend concerts and shows. During the COVID-19 pandemic, I moved and made the city my home.

My world opened up, I could see live music and my favorite local bands and musicians play. I met other writers as well as other people who were neurodivergent like me and even wrote a book about growing up with a disability.

While attending a concert last March, I looked around and saw a lot of familiar faces – people I’d met in the years since moving to Regina. As soon as the music played, I saw that everyone was enjoying it together. At that moment, I felt like I really belonged to her.

I’m still in touch with John. Although we have not met in person yet, I still hope we will one day. Till then I will keep listening to his music. I almost lost faith in people many times in my life, but John was one of those people who taught me that real relationships do exist – you just have to work to find them.

Scammers look for vulnerabilities, but so do the good guys; The difference is that good people give, not take.

Through these experiences I have learned to be vigilant, be kind, and most importantly, remain hopeful.

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