She Thought I Was a Scam — Until I Showed Her My Playlist

She Thought I Was a Scam — Until I Showed Her My Playlist

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In the world of online dating, a healthy dose of skepticism is normal, especially in the international scene. When I first messaged Viktoria, I fit the bill for a potential scammer: I was from a different country, my photos seemed a little too professional (I have a friend who is a photographer), and my opening messages were, admittedly, very enthusiastic.

She was polite but distant. Her replies were short, and she dodged any question that felt even slightly personal. I could feel the wall she had up. During one of our early chats on sofiadate, she even hinted at her suspicion, asking me a series of oddly specific questions that felt like a security screening. I was getting frustrated, knowing I was a genuine person but having no way to prove it. Words were not enough. I felt like I was on the verge of being blocked. Then, during a conversation about music, I had an idea. I had spent years curating a playlist on Spotify. It was a chaotic, deeply personal collection of over 30 hours of music—from 80s rock to obscure indie folk to classical film scores. It was, in many ways, a sonic map of my personality. "I know this is random," I typed, "but this is me. This is my real story." And I sent her the link.

For a few hours, there was silence. I was sure I had blown it. Then, a message popped up. "You have terrible taste in 80s power ballads," she wrote, "but your love for Ludovico Einaudi is redeeming. And anyone who has 'Bohemian Rhapsody' next to a sea shanty is too weird to be a scammer." It was the first time I had made her laugh. That playlist was the proof of life she needed. It was too specific, too personal, and too authentically weird to be fake. It showed her my history, my moods, and my personality in a way no conversation could. It was the key that unlocked the door to her trust.