I recently discovered that my husband was on a dating app. Instead of

confronting him right away, I decided to do a little digging first.

I created a fake profile using someone else’s pictures and started

chatting with him, just to see how far he’d go. It didn’t take long

before he matched with “her” and started opening up. He claimed he was long divorced,

—said his wife (me) had left him—and painted himself as a lonely,

wholesome guy just looking for love. He even spun some sob story about

how hard dating was for a “nice guy” like him. I played along and eventually

set up a fake meetup with him in another city, making sure it was

inconvenient and just far enough away to be a hassle. That night,

he told me—his real wife—that he had urgent work and needed to step out.

He left in a rush, dressed up and clearly excited. He came back around 5 a.m.,

furious and exhausted after wasting hours and spending a ridiculous

amount on a cab ride to meet someone who never showed. What he found,

instead was his suitcase waiting by the door. We’re getting divorced.

No long explanations, no drawn-out drama. He made his choices, and now he can live with them. That’s the end of it.