SEX, LIES AND IDENTITY THEFT

    I just got an email from a British website telling me they couldn’t ship me the porn I’d ordered because they were unable to verify my credit card information. My smut would be on its way, they assured me, the moment I got back to them with a valid credit card. A copy of  the order was included. Someone using my email address had ordered a dozen DVDs about  “bad busty girls” to be shipped to “me.” At an address in England. 
    The idea that someone out there is claiming to be me is unpleasant enough.  But their claiming to be a porn-craving Roz Warren is extra creepy. Why couldn’t they be trying to purchase Masterpiece Theatre DVDs? Or gourmet cat food? What about making a generous donation to the BP oil spill clean-up? I could almost get behind a crook who stole my identity in order to make the large charitable donations I’m too frugal to make myself.
    But bad busty girls? Give me a break.
    Years ago, my mother’s wallet was stolen. Mom’s evil twin took her  credit cards to the airport and proceeded to circle the globe, staying at lavish resort hotels and eating gourmet meals.  Knowing she didn’t have to pay for any of it, my mother, a frugal suburban housewife, got a kick out of reading the monthly statements describing “her” fabulous new life of luxury world travel.  That’s the only silver lining of identity theft -- it reminds you that there’s more than one way to live your life. Did knowing that her Evil Twin was following her bliss inspire Mom to live it up a little herself? You bet it did.  Thinking of her doppelganger sipping champagne on the Riveria made it a little easier for Mom to splurge on a new dress,  or treat her pals to lunch at a good restaurant. Sure, she’d have to pay the piper herself, but why let her Evil Twin have all the fun?
    That’s what makes Fake Roz so disappointing. No jet-setter wannabe, she’s just another porn-seeking perv.  There’s no way her choices are going to challenge me to expand my horizons.
    At least, I certainly hope not.
    I’ve replaced my credit card, put a fraud alert on my credit report and asked the porn site to cancel the busty gals. I’ve also mailed a copy of feminist scholar Andrea Dworkin’s book “Pornography“ to Fake Roz at that address in England. She’ll eagerly open the package, expecting bad girls with big boobs. Instead she’ll get an angry woman with a big brain.
    Suck on that, Evil Twin!