Back in 2011, a young sociologist named Anna Akbari was browsing the dating site OkCupid when she met a charming New Yorker named Ethan Schuman. His user name, "beyondsleeping," belied both a tireless zest for life and a demanding job, and before she knew it they were having deliriously addictive conversations that showcased Ethan's magnetic wit while keeping Anna from sleeping too. But as she fell harder for the handsome stranger who was so engaging over email yet always seemed to have a plausible excuse for not meeting in person, her curiosity deepened—even as she worried she might be getting played.
More than a decade later, Akbari tells the shocking story of what she gradually uncovered about Ethan, as well as the other women who got caught in his irresistible web, in a twisty, disturbing, and ultimately empowering new memoir. , read by Akbari herself and narrator Justin Price as the voice of Ethan, is one of the wildest catfishing stories I have ever heard, so I had to know how it all came together. In this spoiler-free conversation, Akbari opens up about what "Ethan" never would, providing a sociological and contemporary lens on a chilling cautionary tale.
Kat Johnson: There Is No Ethan is a WILD ride, despite (or perhaps because of!) the fact that it's nonfiction. How do you explain the book to people without giving too much away?
Anna Akbari: This is a book about a con artist, but unlike other con artist stories we hear about, where money and sex are at the center of it, this con job is more elusive—though equally devastating. And of course, there’s a twist in the person’s identity, which makes the whole thing even harder to grapple with and make sense of.
Beyond the con, I hope it serves as an example of how easy it is for healthy, sane people to find themselves in a toxic relationship—and how hard it can be to extricate yourself from it.
It’s also a story about how technology changes the very definition of “who we are” and makes us question how we establish trust and form connections.
One of the things that makes There Is No Ethan so fascinating is your personal involvement in the story, weaving both your intense experiences with “Ethan” and the other women as well as your professional expertise into the narrative. How challenging was it to open up about yourself for the book, and how did you balance your personal feelings with reporting out a nonfiction story?
I was extremely nervous about sharing so many personal, intimate details for the book. I like to think of myself as a very private person who lives a public life, but usually I’m writing and speaking about theoretical topics and societal issues as a sociologist and expert—not using my own dating life as fodder for analysis.
I anticipated that there could be some victim blaming, which is why I went to great lengths to lay out the nuances of how connections like these happen. It’s not just one sexy message exchange and boom! You’re all in. Rather, it’s a slow con. I think a lot of people will relate to how that unfolds.
I was especially concerned with getting the storytelling right with regard to the other women. It was important to me that their stories felt accurate to them, so I was in close communication with them when writing it. I care about them and wanted listeners to understand how serious this was for them.
Being an objective social scientist observing and analyzing your own life is never easy. I think that’s why the presence of these other victims made it a bit clearer. I could see what Ethan did to them up close in real time—the carnage he left. It was a rare vantage point for both a social scientist and someone who was also a victim of this abuse and deceit.
In many respects, this is the cornerstone of the American dream: You can be anything if you dream it! But what happens when the path to actualizing that dream means creating a nightmare for others?
What was interesting to you about this story from the perspective of your background as a sociologist?
Much of my work as a sociologist has been on identity and how we construct and perform it. Which makes the story of Ethan Schuman that much more intriguing to me as a social scientist.
My research and the focal point of my dissertation was on what I termed “aspirational identity”—trying on identities by going beyond our existing biography to reflect how we view ourselves and how we aspire to be perceived. In other words: changing our appearance can change our reality, especially in the age of technology, where perception is often the reality that is believed and rewarded.
As a sociologist, I look at the roles we want to play, not just our current position in life. This can be very liberating—or, as is the case with Ethan Schuman, horrifying. Meeting “Ethan” was like a real-world way of testing the limits of my hypothesis. In many respects, this is the cornerstone of the American dream: You can be anything if you dream it! But what happens when the path to actualizing that dream means creating a nightmare for others? When does actualizing your own idealized self cross an ethical line? And of course, in this story, the idea of ethics becomes even more front-and-center once you learn more about the identity of the person behind Ethan Schuman.
When we manipulate our own identities, we also manipulate others. We all do this to varying degrees via changes to our appearance or what we strategically omit from our online profiles or resumes. But when is that ok, and when does it cross a line? What are the ethics around that?
There’s been a recent surge of interest in toxic relationship stories, from viral sagas like West Elm Caleb and “Who TF Did I Marry?” to investigative podcasts like and . What do you think is behind this fascination, and how do you think content creators can balance the helpfulness in educating folks about potential warning signals (as well as the obvious entertainment value) vs. the potential harm in opening up private behavior to public scrutiny?
I’m sure you’ve heard: The internet is a vicious place! So, sharing stories like this opens victims up to trolling and online hate. For some victims, they are also terrified their abusers will retaliate if they speak out. Even when it’s not rational, that fear can be crippling and psychologically terrorizing.
Another challenge is telling the story honestly, while knowing some might accuse you of sensationalizing your experience or the experience of other victims. As a social scientist, I try to be mindful of this: How can I represent the stories of others (and in this case, also myself) in a way that makes it readable and relatable and engaging, but always stays true to the narrative?
Some critics might argue there’s subjectivity in storytelling, getting into a sort of he said/she said situation. Even as a sociologist, there is a qualitative component. But the remarkable twist in this story is EVERYTHING is documented. There’s no room for fabricating anything. These are actual words exchanged, not vague memories. I think that makes it all the more powerful.
This is not the stuff of “other” people. We are all complicit in creating a world in which “truth” in identity and self-representation is a slippery concept thanks to technology.
What did you learn in the course of this experience that could help other people avoid online romance fraud, especially as it becomes increasingly sophisticated and rampant?
Meeting sooner than later is definitely helpful. Thankfully, things have evolved a lot since when I met Ethan. But that being said, I have no doubt there are people who find ways of establishing intimacy quickly, then manufacture delays. And with the use of AI, so many of the hurdles Ethan faced in perpetuating his lies are now easier to overcome.
I wouldn’t say any of us did anything naive or gullible; we were hawks, investigating as we went along. Which is just to say that it can happen to anyone who is putting themselves out there and taking a chance on love and connection. If you do find yourself in a situation like that (or if someone you love does), don’t be too hard on yourself (or them).
I don’t doubt myself or my sanity, nor do I blame myself for what happened. Despite being victimized by Ethan, I have chosen not to live like a victim or give them power by changing how I live and love due to that incident. I hope others with similar experiences—either being conned or finding themselves in toxic partnerships—will feel empowered to do the same.
What do you ultimately hope listeners take away from There Is No Ethan?
Dating and connecting require calculated vulnerability, and I believe love is worth the risk. Relationships matter, and meeting online is a reality for many of us. If you aren’t meeting someone in school or at work or through friends, then the internet is a practical way to connect. There’s no shame in that.
Regardless of your vantage point as a listener, please know: This is not the stuff of “other” people. We are all complicit in creating a world in which “truth” in identity and self-representation is a slippery concept thanks to technology. Ethan was very clever in how he constructed his identity, and many listeners may recognize that a lot of those tactics are rewarded on social media and in internet marketing. Which means we all need to ask ourselves: Where do we draw the line?