I recently found out my husband was using a dating app. Instead of confronting him immediately, I decided to investigate first. I made a fake profile with someone else’s photos and started chatting with him to see what he would do. Sure enough, he matched with the fake account and began opening up. He claimed he was divorced—said his wife (me) had left him—and portrayed himself as a lonely, decent guy just looking for love. He even gave some pitiful story about how tough dating was for “nice guys.”
I kept playing along and arranged a fake date with him in another city, one that was inconvenient and far enough to be a real hassle. That night, he told me he had urgent work and had to leave suddenly. He left all dressed up and clearly excited. He returned at 5 a.m.—tired, angry, and frustrated after spending a fortune on a cab and wasting his night waiting for someone who never appeared.
What he did find was his suitcase by the door. We’re getting a divorce. No big scene, no drawn-out explanations. He made his bed—now he gets to lie in it. That’s it.
