“I saw your husband on Tinder” she said in a smug, stage whisper, “is everything okay?“
You know those moments where the world closes in around you and everything goes black and you feel pricks of sweat rise from every pore in your body?
And you think, Christ, did it have to be her to find him? The biggest bitch and gossip in the street?
And your mind goes blank, your mouth goes dry and you stammer and say “oh“.
And then she pats you on the arm and says with a grin, “I just thought I’d let you know. A few people have been talking about it. If you need anything, you know where I am“.
And then she leaves you, standing there on the corner of your street with a pushchair laden with Sainsbury’s bags and toddler shouting for a sandwich.
And then you think: “Fucking hell. Tinder. He’s going to kill me.”
I signed my husband up to Tinder to see what all the fuss was about and to help me with an article I was writing about dating.
And then I got drunk, forgot to delete the profile and promptly forgot all about it.
I text a friend.
“Hi, have you heard any gossip about me? Please tell me, I think there are some things I need to straighten out.”
“I’m coming over – no arguments.” Came her reply, almost as soon as I’d hit send.
“No it’s fine!” I protested.
“I’m on my way.”
Lovely woman that she is turned up with a bottle of wine, looking really upset.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you. I’ve been losing sleep over it. I think Carl has been cheating on you. Someone saw his profile on Tinder a few weeks ago. I am so, so sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m going to help you, what do you want to do?”
She’s so lovely, with her wine and her kind words. And oh my, in that moment I elevated her to best friend status in my head (I’ve not had a best friend since I was 5), because, wow.
She was standing there, holding my hand and looking so concerned for me. She had lost sleep over telling me. I have never felt like such a massive bitch.
Fuck, I am a cow.
“I think there is something you should see” I told her as I opened up my laptop and opened an unfinished word document entitled “I Put My Husband On Tinder to See How it Worked“.
I said that I felt like the boy who cried wolf. She said never mind, if it happened for real, she’d do the same again. Luckily she saw the funny side and we opened the wine.
But then she told me how a few of the not so lovely women had been viciously gossiping about me at the pub.
Gossip that ranged from my husband cheating to him paying for prostitutes.
One person who I had come to really like over the past few years had cooled with me over the previous weeks, and I couldn’t put my finger on why. She had even crossed the street one day when she had seen me coming.
Now I know why. She was one of the ringleaders.
Lovely friend helped me write an email to everyone who had been gossiping, with a link to my unfinished article, explaining what had happened.
Unfortunately, I think the damage has been done and that some of them see me as delusional or not accepting the truth.
The one thing that bugs me though, is that if they saw him on Tinder, they would have to be on Tinder themselves. They are all married. Which throws up my own questions about them.