I remember the day I got the message that made my stomach drop.
A former colleague reached out asking if my partner and I were still together. Instantly I knew something was wrong.
I replied, yes, and added hastily in a second message that he lived in her neighbourhood as a way to ease the tension I felt quickly ballooning inside. She replied with words I’ll never forget: “This is the last position I want to be in….” and then proceeded to send me screenshots of my boyfriend chatting with her on Hinge.
He unmatched her as soon as she asked about me. I was devastated.
This couldn’t be possible. My brain went into overdrive. I’ve never been cheated on before and my boyfriend had never given me any reason to not trust him.
We’d been together for nearly two years and had been friends for over a decade before that. I thought we were going to get married. Like with any relationship, there were some concerns, but nothing I thought was insurmountable, and I did not doubt for one second that he loved me.
So, I called him, and I waited.
He answered and sounded a little off. I came straight out with it. “Are you on Hinge?”
He paused for only a second, but it felt like an answer.
“No.”
“So then why am I getting sent pictures of your profile?” I demanded.
“I don’t know,” he said, explaining to me that he had received an email from Hinge, and suggested he could have been hacked.
There was no shock on his end, no I’m so sorry you experienced this, no Joanne, I love you so much, this is not me.
I became simultaneously devastated and angry.
Facing the truth
This began an agonizing 24 hours. Was he hacked? Or was he cheating on me and trying to get away with it? Why did he not delete his account in the first place?
At that moment, I wanted so badly to believe him. I was searching for something, anything, that would confirm this was all a mistake. Quickly, through tears and immense nausea, I started to examine the profile closer, looking for something to exonerate him.
Of the five photos, four were old and pulled straight from his social media. I knew fake accounts were possible – it had happened to a friend of mine. But the first photo stopped me. It wasn’t public. I went back through our old pictures and zoomed in on his beard, comparing the amount of grey. The photo on Hinge was newer. I knew it.
That was the first nail in the coffin.
The second was what my former colleague told me: they had matched before, and this time he opened the conversation by referencing that earlier match. How would a hacker ever know that?
The third was the date he tried to set up with her – the same weekend he had blocked off in our shared calendar as a “busy work weekend.” That realization landed physically. It felt like he had used my trust – my respect for his schedule – as cover.
The final nail came when we spoke the next day.
He hadn’t rushed to see me when this all happened. He didn’t show up at my door. Instead, he stayed out drinking with friends while I sat on my couch in anguish, studying the screenshots.
He deflected blame, and he minimized my feelings. This conversation, which was supposed to be about him reassuring me that he wasn’t cheating, turned into him listing the problems he felt with the relationship. He even told me I had let myself go and I should try to work harder on my appearance (yes, I know I should have left then).
It felt like a negotiation rather than reassurance, or almost like a list of why he was frustrated enough to test the waters on an app.
Ultimately his words and his behaviour did not match. There was no empathy from the man who said he loved me, there was no effort to attempt to repair the chasm of distrust that erupted between us.
In my gut I knew I could never trust him again. But, I tried to.
In truth, I loved him. I had envisioned a future with him. I thought about what our kids would be like, and how we’d grow old watching the sunset from a porch overlooking the lake. The thought of erasing that future so quickly was deeply painful, even though the situation in front of me lay bare the fact that he didn’t seem to want this future with me.
We stayed together for another 2.5 months, after which I finally realized the emotional neglect and abuse I had suffered.
Deep down I think I knew that he did it, and I think he knew that too.
Always trust your gut
It has taken time to untangle what hurt the most. It wasn’t just the potential betrayal. It was the way I was made to question my own reality. The way my completely reasonable reaction was treated as an overreaction.
Reflecting now, many months later, it is hard not to let this experience cloud my feelings around dating. However, I know that the right partner will understand the scar this has left on my heart, and if I know one thing about myself it is that I am resilient.
I think what I’ve really learned is how to trust myself.
I might have needed time to sit in the situation, but I was able to rescue myself. I stood up for myself. I got myself out of a situation in which I wasn’t being chosen, wasn’t being loved how I deserved, wasn’t being valued for the woman I am. This realization makes dating a little easier. I know I will always have my own back, and I trust myself to leave any situation which does not feel safe or secure.
And, to any women who have found themselves in a similar situation – all I can say is trust your instincts.
Take the time you need to gather whatever information you need, observe how things shift and change, and ultimately believe in yourself to make the right decisions for you, knowing that at the end of the day you can, and you will, stand on your own two feet.
