'One final conversation with my ex made me realise I could never date men again.'

I wasn't born with trust issues. And my upbringing did not foster them.

My trust issues developed through years of dating men.

The moment that ended my dating journey wasn't the time an ex hooked up with another girl, drunk, in front of me on a dance floor.

It wasn't the time I discovered an ex had been flirting via texts with a colleague for months.

Or even the time I discovered concealed love letters between my boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend, who was allegedly happily married despite their dramatically poetic letters to one another.

Despite these experiences, I still wanted to find a husband. I wanted to create a family and risk becoming a statistic of a marriage gone sour.

So I kept dating. Relentlessly, throughout my 20s.

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But the last man I dated revealed something that finally made me stop dating, find a sperm donor instead and make a family without a partner at all.

Then never, ever want to date again.

I met him at a basketball tournament. We had mutual friends and mutual interests. And as it turned out, our interests were even more aligned than I had initially thought.

We'd been dating for a few weeks before I first noticed it. Despite having an extended social network from basketball and his workplace, his friends were mostly female. He had a "work wife", his best friend was female, and he was even close friends with one of his ex-girlfriends.

At first, I was jealous. I worried that he harboured feelings for his "work wife", that he longed for his best friend and that he'd reconnect with his ex. Because, ALL of these things had also happened to me before.

So one night, I confronted him about it. And I did not get the reaction I'd expected.

At first, he tried to palm it off.

"Nah, we're just friends, I prefer female company, men aren't as good to talk to as women."

We agreed on this point but, something made me keep pushing. I could tell he was concealing something and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

When he wouldn't tell me what he was holding back, I decided to leave. "There's no point," I said, "If I don't believe you. And I don't. So we're done. I'm 30. I don't have time to wonder."

And that's when he revealed that he was not sexually attracted to women at all. In his own words — "I exclusively have relationships with women because they're just better humans to spend time with… but I'm only sexually attracted to men."

I wasn't completely shocked by this revelation. If I'm honest, I sort of liked it. I don't have a high sex drive, so I wasn't concerned about missing out in that department. What we had so far was sufficient for me. Mutual interests, shared ambitions, similar living habits.

I imagined what the future could be like with him: a best-friend-style romantic relationship, without the pressures of sex as we aged and wearied, without the fear of jealousy, and the bonus of being able to spend most of our social time with women — both of our preferred company.

Fortunately, my openness to this unique relationship possibility made him relax his guard. And in doing so, he revealed the thing that stopped me in my tracks:

He had only acted on his attraction to men with one man. It had been ongoing since they were teenagers, it was only sexual, and they had maintained this sexual relationship throughout all of his prior relationships.

Including with his ex, who was also part of his close social group.

Once my initial shock wore off, I spent a moment feeling like I'd been left out of the loop. I imagined his friends laughing, wondering when I'd figure it out.

"So, do ALL your friends know?" I asked.

And then came the ultimate revelation.

No one knew. Not even his ex.

His ex, who he was so close to. So close with in fact, that they'd remained close friends for years after their relationship ended. A relationship, I'll add, which had spanned years and continents. They had travelled Africa together, bought a house together (which they still owned, as landlords).

Yet, she had no idea one of her closest friends had cheated on her for years. I couldn't believe it.

I asked him to leave, said I'd never tell another person as long as he never said a negative word about me or to me, ever again.

He didn't ask me to keep his secret. He just left, like I'd asked, and has probably been holding his breath for years now, wondering who I'd tell.

I've told no one, until now. Anonymously, without identifying him.

From the moment he closed the door behind him, I simply could not trust any romantic partner. If he could cheat on his ex, then keep her as a friend, anything was possible.

And so, with this attitude, I re-evaluated what I really wanted in life. It wasn't sex. It wasn't a partner. I wanted friends and to be a mum.

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So, I made it happen.

It really was that simple. No complicated dating rituals, no exes to contend with (or secret long-term sexual partners on the side).

I went to a fertility clinic, chose a sperm donor, injected myself with hormones for a good year, and voila — I was a mum.

IVF was rough, but I was thankful not to be in a toxic relationship or being cheated on.

And trusting someone to be your life partner, when you never really know a person… to me, is the worst.

And always will be. I will never date again.

Feature image: Getty. (Stock image for illustrative purposes).