A growing number of viewers have committed to watching the 50-part TikTok story “Who TF Did I Marry?”, a saga in which Teesa, the series’s narrator, recounts her whirlwind relationship with Legion, a man she is convinced is a pathological liar.
In it, Teesa says she describes a love so riddled with red flags, “you would have thought I was colorblind because I ignored all of that.” She tells the story without any frills, and in the hopes that her traumatizing story can help others trust their gut and avoid a similar fate.
“If just one woman watches these videos and she’s like, ‘You know what? Something don’t sit right with me. Let me look into this,’ then it was worth it,” Teesa said in an interlude video.
In the videos, Tessa tells her story to the camera like she’s on FaceTime with a friend — sometimes wearing heatless curlers and sometimes while driving. When Teesa met Legion in March 2020, she says, she fell hard for him and his desire to provide for her financially. He told her during their first phone conversation that he was a former football player and divorced regional manager who recently moved to Georgia from California, she said, and on their first date he talked about wanting to get married, start a family and own a house — goals Teesa also dreamed of.
Within months, Legion moved into the townhouse Teesa was renting so they could weather covid lockdown together, she said. After Teesa found out she was pregnant, she said the pressure, also fueled by religious expectations, was building to settle down.
They looked at several homes, Teesa continued, but they never closed a deal after Legion refused to show proof that he had the money to support his $700,000, all-cash offers. She recounted how Legion said he was transferring money from his offshore account to buy her an Audi Q8 and said that the SUV would be delivered to their home, but it never arrived.
Throughout the series, Teesa is quick to acknowledge the mistakes she made staying with her ex-husband despite him not keeping his word: “I’m not a dumb person,” she said in one video. “But it just never dawned on me the things that you have to now investigate.” She also emphasizes that the pandemic made their relationship’s progression and delays Legion said they were experiencing more believable.
She miscarried, which Teesa said she later saw as a blessing. No house was purchased, she said. And Teesa said she bought herself a car, a Nissan Altima.
They got married in January 2021, she said, but the lies didn’t stop.
By the time she filed for divorce, she allegedly learned that he never lived in California and had divorced at least twice before marrying her. Through government records, and conversations with his family members, Teesa said she found out he lied profusely about his family — pretending to have two sisters and two half-brothers, lying about family members dying of covid when they had passed away years prior and pretending to be on phone calls with relatives for half-hour periods — or longer.
Legion lied about his money and his job, Teesa said: He was a forklift operator, not a regional manager or vice president.
After the series ended last week, it became the talk of TikTok, compared to other stories told online that were later adapted, such as “Zola” and “Dirty John.” Viewers began suggesting the titles “Legion of Lies” or “Surviving Legion” for the eventual book or Netflix or Lifetime movie the series would inspire.
Some have begged for “proof of funds” to be emblazoned on merchandise. (Official T-shirts were announced Tuesday, but they say “I survived Legion” and “#WhoTFDidIMarry.”) Other commenters said Teesa’s dreams deserved to come true: to own a BMW X5, take the trip to London and Paris she mentioned in the story, and find an honest, loving partner. (She announced Wednesday that she’ll be traveling to London and Paris, and she’ll document her trip on TikTok.)
“People always say, ‘People have such short attention spans now. … I actually think it takes more brainpower to scroll every 10 seconds and have to process a new face, a new topic, a new caption, a new comment section,’” said Coco Mocoe, a 28-year-old podcast host and digital media trend predictor in Los Angeles. “People are craving the ability to find creators where they put their phone up, they find the video, and they can just set it to the side while they listen and they brush their teeth, or they do the dishes.”
After Universal Music Group pulled its songs from the platform, TikTok’s desire grew for content that does not rely on TikTok sounds and pop music, Mocoe added.
Fans have latched onto Teesa because of her gracious and genuine demeanor despite what she experienced, said Alex Pearlman, a 39-year-old TikTok creator and stand-up comedian in Philadelphia.
“She also reminds you that he’s [Legion] a person. And, like, that’s rare in a story,” he said. “Usually, someone is a villain. And she’s like, ‘No, this is the man I married.’”
Amber Wallin, a 32-year-old comedian, host and podcaster in Los Angeles, made her own comedic video, earning millions of views for interrogating her husband in reaction to the series. Wallin said Teesa’s honesty and thorough rationale for overlooking red flags might have helped many viewers sympathize with her instead of judging her.
“We all were in a state of desperation during the pandemic,” Wallin said. “Who amongst us didn’t do something ridiculous when we all thought the world was ending?”
With her growing group of supporters, Teesa has become something of a case study for entertainment producers, said Meridith Rojas, 36, co-founder of the brand studio Free Electron in Los Angeles.
“People want to be on TikTok, so they will stop scrolling if you give them something to really sink their teeth into,” Rojas said. “That’s what this creator did.”
