I caught my husband using a dating app. He claimed it was a harmless ‘ego boost’

Married for nearly two decades, one woman’s life changed instantly after she spotted her husband’s profile on a dating app. Photo / 123RF

The revelations about Lily Allen’s marriage mirror the experience of one woman who turned sleuth to catch her husband cheating online.

When I read reports Lily Allen had apparently discovered her husband, American actor David Harbour, had been using the dating app Raya, I felt a powerful sense of sisterhood. I’m pretty sure my life and superstar Lily’s are very different, but I knew exactly how she must have felt – because the same thing happened to me.

Lily was clever, and allegedly set up a fake profile to prove her suspicions correct. I was less sharp – in fact, I blocked out my doubts for months because I was so afraid of my marriage falling apart.

Singer Lily Allen and Stranger Things star David Harbour have reportedly called it quits, with Allen allegedly catching Harbour using dating apps. Photo / Getty Images

Tim and I met at a dinner party in our 20s, and were married for 18 years. He was charismatic, handsome and successful in IT – a moneyed, male-dominated world.

Sometimes I wondered if I was too quiet for someone as sociable as Tim, but he swore he needed my calm to his storm. We both came from large families, and wanted the same fun and chaos for our own.

By our 40s, we had four children. Tim’s career was demanding; he was often away at conferences, but I trusted him implicitly. My dad was a similar big character and my parents had a wonderful marriage. In 2017, the children were all teens and life was a hectic juggle.

I still looked forward to spending time with Tim, but increasingly I’d notice he was on his phone over breakfast, or in bed, traditionally times when we’d discuss our days. I’d ask what he was reading and he’d say it was industry news on Twitter – I had no suspicions.

Over that year, though, I used to joke that his phone was becoming an obsession – he was on it all the time, and would even take it to the bath with him. The kids would say, “Dad’s chatting to his fancy woman again”, and we’d laugh.

Once or twice, I did think, “What if…”, but then I’d look at him, helping the youngest with her homework or cheerily offering our son a lift to football, and I refused to believe he would put our shared life at risk.

Once, he fell asleep using his phone and when I glanced at the glowing screen, I was surprised to see a close-up of a pretty woman’s face – but I didn’t want to spy. I told myself it was just an image from the article he’d been reading, and turned the phone off. I was so naive. We were married before dating apps were normalised, and I’d never used one.

We live in a small village in the Cotswolds, where everyone knows each other, so when I saw an envelope lying on the mat after Tim had gone to work, I assumed it was some missive about the pub quiz. But when I opened it, I laughed in shock.

“Kate, check Tinder – your husband is on there and I think you should know.” My first reaction was that it was a stupid joke – had one of the kids thought it might be funny? But none of them would have done this. Part of me thought I should phone Tim, or simply ignore it, but I also knew if I warned him, he’d have time to delete his account.

Tinder was launched in 2012 and has become one of the most popular dating apps worldwide. Photo / 123RF

All that time on his phone, the occasional little smirk at the screen as he typed… I downloaded Tinder. My fingers shook and I felt sick as I searched for men of his age in my area. My first feeling was relief. He wasn’t there. But as I scrolled farther, my heart stopped. “Tim, 46″ – he’d shaved a year off – was smiling from the screen. The photo had been taken in France a few years ago, by me, and he’d clearly chosen it because it made him look tanned and glamorous. Never mind the wife and four children just off camera.

I swore out loud – a word I’d never previously said to him – then I burst into tears and, through sobs, phoned my best friend, Helen. She was shocked too, but once I could breathe, I remember she said, “You don’t actually know that he’s done anything.”

“Why would he be on a bloody dating app if he hadn’t?” I yelled. Helen explained that some men – she may have used the words “midlife-crisis” – just enjoy being found attractive, that flirting is enough to boost their ego, without actually committing the act.

“It’s not really infidelity, it’s just a bit sad,” she went on.

But that was easy for her to say – her husband adored her and I could never imagine him doing something like this. It was obvious Tim had been chatting to other women, even while he was next to me in our bed. I had no idea if he’d been sexting, if he’d met up with them, if some of his “conferences” were actually nights in boutique hotels with his Tinder conquests. Plus the fact that he’d lied and said he was single; I felt he’d thrown me and the children, and all we meant to him, under the bus for the sake of his ego.

Affairs aren't always primarily about sex; they can stem from loneliness or a desire for intimacy. Photo / 123RF

I confronted him as soon as he came home from work, and he immediately admitted it – he had no choice, his profile was still up. I thought he’d be sick with guilt, but after apologising, he simply said he’d been feeling “on the scrap heap” and it had just been a way to make himself feel better: “Like when you get your hair done, it’s a little ego boost.”

I was stunned by his stupidity. How could he not understand he’d betrayed my trust? I could never be certain it hadn’t ever gone farther, because it had never occurred to me he might do something like this. I moved to the spare room that night, telling the children it was due to “Dad’s snoring”, and the next day I found a couples’ therapist.

But from the first session, it was obvious Tim thought I was overreacting. He kept saying, “But I didn’t do anything”, oblivious to the fact that he had betrayed my trust. Gradually, it became clear there was a lot of resentment beneath the surface – that I “put the kids first” and “relied on his money” – even though I’d gone part-time as a teacher because we agreed it made more sense than paying a fulltime nanny.

But when the therapist pressed as to whether Tim had gone any farther than an “ego boost”, he finally admitted he’d met up with someone, but “just had a drink”.

That was it for me, and shortly after, sadly, we split up. By then, the children had all left home, and they were shocked and sad, but supportive. All four still have good relationships with both of us, though it took a while for our youngest to forgive him.

Eight years on, we’re both with someone else – in fact, I met my second husband on a dating app, though not the one Tim used. I’m 53 and happy, and I can safely say I’ll never log on to one again.

As told to Flic Everett.