I thought my husband was a catfish. This is how I found out.

As told to Ann DeGrey.

I understood my marriage wasn't perfect. Rocky would be the best way to describe it. But I loved Tom*. Well, at least the version of him I thought I knew. We'd been together for eight years, we have two gorgeous kids, and a life that looked almost boringly normal from the outside.

But behind all of that, there were some deep cracks. Tom wasn't the most emotionally available man. I'd often feel like I was walking on eggshells; going out of my way not to annoy him, never asking too many questions and never nagging him about helping with housework.

About three years ago, I caught him messaging an ex-girlfriend. It wasn't too explicit, but it was flirty enough to make me feel sick. Tom brushed it off, saying it was harmless, and he accused me of "overreacting." I let it go, because that's what I always do. I was exhausted, raising our kids, and trying to keep my career going. I just didn't have the energy left to fight.

Luckily, there was one person who really understood me — my best friend, Liam*.

Watch: The definition of emotional affair. Post continues after video.

Video via YouTube/Marriage Helper.

Liam and I met in high school; he helped me through postpartum depression and listened to me cry over countless phone calls during the bad patches of my marriage. He always knows when I need a glass of wine or a walk on the beach. He also happens to be gay, which, in my mind, made him the safest person in my world.

He and Tom tolerated each other, but they were never close. I used to joke that they were in competition for who got to roll their eyes at me more. But Liam never liked him. He said he always got "off" vibes from him; he told me he found Tom manipulative and cold.

But I always defended Tom. Only now do I wish I'd listened more carefully to Liam.

I found out what my husband had done entirely by accident. One night after dinner, I was scrolling through Facebook when I saw a comment on a mutual friend's post. It was from a woman I didn't know, but the profile photo made my stomach flip. It was Liam's face, but the name was different. And the page was private, so I couldn't see much. I messaged the woman and said, "Hi, weird question, do you know the man in your profile picture?"

She replied almost immediately: "Yeah, that's Jay. We've been talking for months. Why?"

I couldn't breathe.

Jay, apparently, was a single dad, who was looking for love after heartbreak. He had a soft voice (they'd spoken on the phone), sent thoughtful messages, and loved dogs. He'd told this woman that his camera wasn't working right now, so he couldn't video chat. But he always promised he'd visit her "soon."

I told her I was pretty sure my husband was "Jay", using Liam's photos to catfish her. I asked her to send me a few screenshots of their conversations. I didn't even have to scroll far; I recognised the writing style straight away. It was Tom. He kept referring to this woman as "my little flower", which is what he used to call me.

What followed was a horrific deep dive. Over the next 48 hours, I uncovered not one but three women he'd been speaking to, all under the same fake identity using Liam's photos. He'd lifted them straight from Liam's old Instagram; ones from the beach, a selfie in sunglasses, a photo with his dog. Cropped, filtered, and repurposed to become someone else's fantasy.

There were also little details that no stranger would know: references to inside jokes we'd shared, a comment about our son's soccer team, even a mention of "a clingy ex-wife who has two failed floristry businesses and doesn't understand boundaries."

Yes, that's me with the two failed floristry businesses.

That's when the last thread of doubt snapped. He wasn't just lying to these women, he was mocking me in the process.

When I confronted him, he didn't deny it. He said it started as a joke. Then it got addictive. He had tears in his eyes when he told me that he never physically cheated. As if emotional manipulation, betrayal, and violating my best friend's identity didn't count.

Liam was devastated. Having your face used without permission to manipulate and hurt others is a very violating thing. It was a betrayal of both of us.

I tried to move forward and make the marriage work, just for the sake of our kids, but I just couldn't get over what Tom had done. In many ways it was worse than if he'd had an affair — and I can't be sure he didn't go that far anyway.

Two months later, I packed my things, took the kids, and moved in with my sister while I figured out the next steps. People say betrayal feels like a punch in the gut, but for me, it felt like something more. I'd always known, deep down, that Tom wasn't the perfect husband, but uncovering the truth about his vile deception made me realise I'd been sharing a bed with a stranger. For years, I didn't even know the man lying next to me.

*Names have been changed due to privacy.

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but remained anonymous for privacy purposes.

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