I Was Certain My Boyfriend Was Keeping A Secret From Me. What I Discovered Online Was Shocking.

The early days of dating Bernie had been euphoric. He made even the most ordinary moments — sitting on my couch, passing through the drive-thru, catching up after work — special and lighthearted. He nearly split me in half a few times with how hard he would make me laugh.

However, even at the beginning of our relationship, I observed Bernie’s attention was divided. He would take hours — sometimes a full day — to respond to a text. He often had to hang up quickly from a FaceTime call. I chalked it up to his frenetic schedule that came with working a full-time job and running several side hustles.

On Thanksgiving, I spent all night massaging Bernie’s aching back. He had health issues due to a serious injury he had suffered years before, and often thanked me for sharing “my gift of the healing arts” with him. After that night, he thanked me by ghosting me for three days.

“That’s not cool,” I had told him. My friends encouraged me to disengage. Somehow Bernie flipped the script on me. He explained I wasn’t the victim of his neglect. It was he who deserved all of my compassion and care. He was, after all, the one with health issues who was working multiple jobs. He reeled me back with an appeal to my good nature every time.

Not long after, when I had noticed curious comments from a woman on his social media — she of the generous array of heart emojis to all of his posts — my antennae spiked. Naturally, I ferreted out information about this woman with the prowess of a private investigator. When I discovered her LinkedIn page indicated a common work background with Bernie, I cast her as a former co-worker (surely an innocuous connection!). However, when I saw her pass through the receiving line at a wake for one of his family members and observed her drape herself in a hug around my man, I could not help but wonder if I was being bamboozled. 

When I asked Bernie, point-blank, if he was entertaining other women, he replied rhetorically, “With what time?!”

It did seem impossible that I could be part of a rotation, given his nocturnal work hours and the family that constantly surrounded him. I had met his mother and brother, and was present several times while his nephew FaceTimed us. If I wasn’t the lonely only, wouldn’t he be paranoid that his family would call his bluff?

And then there was the very abject reality of his physical limitations. When he explained how the demands on his body compounded his forgetfulness and busyness, I tried to be more understanding. 

Until I could no longer understand. Eventually, I was receiving such a small sliver of Bernie’s time and energy, I leaned in. I made more offers to help, call, visit. The tension between us crescendoed.

One day, after he had worked a double shift, I decided to drop off some bakery items at his home. I did not announce myself, as I believed he would be sleeping, and quietly left the bag on his back porch. I hoped it would be a nice surprise when he woke up and headed to work.

Instead, I received a curt text instructing me never to do that again. Bernie then iced me out for several weeks before finally declaring he was done. He said my innocent DoorDash drop-off had been completely “out of pocket” and that he was no longer interested in dating me.

During the months after Bernie kicked me to the curb, I languished on my therapist’s couch. I pawed at possible explanations, trying to examine every facet of our failed relationship. In offices in other parts of town, Mary and Casey were having the same conversations with their own therapists. 

As summer rolled in, Bernie began to drift back into my life. First, with his trademark “How you doin’?” texts, and later with calls and links to videos he’d hoped would make me laugh. One morning, he called me from a nearby store, asking if he could drop by my apartment. I told him I wasn’t in town. In truth, I wasn’t ready to trust the man who had so recently and swiftly dispensed with me.  

When I then found myself on an online forum designed to expose cheaters, it was not as a casual lurker. I was a woman on a mission. I was familiar with this page, with dedicated groups in all major U.S. cities, where women warned other women to avoid certain men. The women generally posted anonymously, and included a man’s picture, his initials and age. Posts typically queried, “Anyone know if he’s married? Dating anyone?”