Clearly, it was some kind of joke, and he seemed harmless enough, with his goofy demeanor and thick glasses, so I politely nodded along while still looking down at my phone to signal that I was a good sport but didn't want the novelty to continue much longer.
That's when things went from silly to a little creepy. The random bro, who was still sitting across from me, said he "saved some room for dessert," and that the dessert was, in fact, me. Eww. I told him it was presumptuous of him to say that, then defined the word for him when he said he didn't know what it meant. The encounter felt less funny at that point, but the guy still seemed silly rather than dangerous. I told him I had a boyfriend, thinking that would end it. The awkward banter continued a little longer. He asked for my Instagram, which is public, and because I just wanted him to leave, I typed it into his phone without hitting follow.
As strange as the whole thing was, I would have completely forgotten about the exchange had I not, a few minutes later, received a follow notification on Instagram from @itspolokidd, an account with 1.5 million followers.
The novelty quickly dissolved into shock as I realized the slightly silly, slightly creepy stranger at lunch was a social media pickup artist — someone who hit on women in public while surreptitiously recording their reactions. I racked my brain to figure out if there was any way he could have filmed our interaction. It turns out, he'd been doing so with his Ray-Ban Meta Glasses (even his poor eyesight was a lie!)
A quick dive into the page revealed more than 1,500 posts featuring Polokid — the bro I'd just treated to a free vocab lesson — shooting his shot with unsuspecting ladies and, more often than not, walking away with their phone numbers. Sometimes he walked away with more than that: boob grabs, butt slaps, sex offers. I was mortified. What had seemed somewhat random and funny suddenly felt predatory.
I was self-conscious about being featured on his page, open to ridicule. His followers regularly made fun of the women on his posts, criticizing their appearances and their reactions to being hit on. I worried he might edit my video to portray my responses out of context, and that his post would make my interaction with him seem like something other than a polite rejection. Was I too nice to him? Would I come across as flirtatious, like I was leading him on in some way?
I DM'ed Polokid and asked him not to post the video.
Then, I called a friend — a police officer — and asked whether it was legal for this guy to secretly record me and post the video without my consent. My friend said the recording was probably legal because people have no "expectation of privacy" when we're in public. Outside of our homes, our speech and actions are considered fair game for someone recording a video on their phone (or on a Jumbotron, as Coldplay recently taught us).
Meanwhile, Polokid responded, saying he thought the video was funny and even offered to plug my new book. (It was almost tempting given his massive following — but I doubt there's much overlap in our audiences.)
After briefly weighing my options, I reluctantly said "okay" — nothing too severe had happened, and based on what my cop friend had told me, I assumed there was nothing I could do about it anyway. Also, there are far more embarrassing things about me on the internet (there's a reason authors aren't supposed to read their own Goodreads reviews), and I preferred him to post under friendly terms.
Comparatively speaking, my video is one of Polokid's more boring posts. His followers seemed to agree, leaving comments like, "Bro is losing his spark," and, "She's not interested. Move on to another one." While he does post the occasional rejection, many of his videos feature busty, bikini-clad babes who are seemingly into the banter and readily hand out their phone numbers with a promise to connect, or even DTF — some women invite him up to their hotel rooms. Often, though, his targets seem uncomfortable, especially when he opens with lines like "I want to be the six to your nine."
A Legal Gray Area
In hindsight, I didn't know what I didn't know. Having subsequently consulted with two legal experts — Melba V. Pearson, FIU law professor and civil rights/criminal law attorney; and Scott Ponce, a litigator and partner at Holland & Knight who has represented New Times in lawsuits involving the paper — I now understand that Polokid is operating in a murky gray area.Yes, we were in public, but the two of us were engaged in a private conversation, and Florida Statute 934.03, the state's wiretapping law, requires consent from both parties before an audio recording takes place. At the time it happened, if I had realized Polokid was recording and was feeling feisty, I could have told the police that he violated the statute, a third-degree felony. I probably wouldn't have pursued legal action, but I would have been less likely to consent to his posting our interaction.
The entire experience left me with more questions about Polokid than answers: Do women ever get angry with him? Does he always secure consent before he posts? Why is he harassing people? I grew up watching prank shows and can appreciate a good one, but Polokid seems to scam women with no real punch line at the end. And what do his followers (who are overwhelmingly male) enjoy about his content?
I asked Polokid, whose real name is Sayed Kaghazi, if I could interview him for this column. To my surprise, he said yes.
"You Thought I Was Weird or Something?"
On the phone, all the brazenness of the person I met at Avo is replaced with a shy, soft-spoken man who seemed nervous that he might say the wrong thing. He told me he'd been filming his clandestine pickup videos "professionally" for three years, but he'd been pranking since middle school. One day, he posted a viral video, and Polokid was born.Though he admits his methods have gotten him into "trouble" in the past, Kaghazi insists he no longer posts without consent and always informs his targets after their interactions that he had recorded their exchange. ("I forgot to tell you," he says. "But you figured it out.")
Some women end up being in on the joke after he tells them they've been filmed and either ask to be tagged on the post or pop up in the comments saying things like, "That was me!" But Kaghazi says others are disappointed that it was all a gag when they thought they were meeting a potential new date. (As if locals need any more reasons to stay single.) He says he feels bad about that.
He also acknowledges that some women become angry after discovering his game. "I'm always going to deal with that," he says.
Self-Preservation Mode
Kaghazi asks what I was thinking when he approached me, and I tell him I thought it was funny at first, but that when he got aggressive, I just wanted him to leave. He seems disappointed. "Oh, you thought I was weird or something?" he asks quietly. I explain that many women are programmed to go into self-preservation mode — like we are in a hostage situation and need to smile and extricate ourselves in the safest way possible — when a man approaches us acting erratically or unpredictably."I knew when to walk away," he says of our encounter. "I'm not that type of person, but I understand the perception."
What I really want to know, though, is why 1.4 million followers are drawn to Polokid's antics. This guy is no Sacha Baron Cohen, and after a few views, his videos feel repetitive and a little boring.
It turns out I'd grossly overintellectualized the situation.
"Guys like watching other guys pick up girls because they don't have the balls to do it themselves," Kaghazi informs me.
Is it really that simple? Polokid is right that approaching potential dates can be intimidating. If I'm being exceedingly generous, I'll also admit that if guys can take one piece of advice from him, it's that leading with confidence will significantly improve their chances.
But please, I implore you: Do not open with sexual commentary, and for the love of god, don't record anyone without their knowledge and consent.
