Adrian and I had been dating for three months when we went to stay at a big, fancy hotel. An accountant, he had really splashed out. We had a lovely dinner and I felt a real connection with him.So breakfast the next morning came as a bit of a shock. As we were eating our Full English, I noticed Adrian kept glancing around furtively.‘What’s wrong?’ I asked. Then a man approached our table and said, ‘Hi Adrian, how are your wife and kids?’ He said it in an accusatory tone, before glancing at me.In that instant, everything collapsed.I remember the way Adrian’s face fell. Without waiting for an answer, the man sauntered off.‘My wife and I are separating,’ he stammered to me once the man had gone.‘No, you’re not,’ I snapped.Shaking with anger, I got up and left. I wasn’t just hurt, I was humiliated – and I wanted retribution.It wasn’t the first time I’d been forced into the role of unwitting mistress – and sadly, it wouldn’t be the last.Adrian was the third cheat I’d fallen for. And even more shockingly, I would go on to find myself in a similar situation five further times. It wasn’t the first time I’d been forced into the role of unwitting mistress – and sadly, it wouldn’t be the last, writes Christina Higgins Before you jump to conclusions, know that I never set out to become ‘the other woman’. I’ve always wanted to settle down and marry, and have had three ‘normal’ committed relationships.But to end up with so many cheats? Perhaps I was an easy target for some reason – too naïve, too trusting, and drawn to the wrong people.How, you may ask, did I not learn from my mistakes? But the truth is, it’s worryingly easy for a woman to be snared by a secret adulterer.For most of my adult life, I believed I was simply unlucky. And surely the fault lay with the men that were cheating – they were the ones who were married – rather than with me.But my mother certainly saw it as my fault and regularly expressed her disappointment in me over the years.Now 71 and single, I look back on my chequered love life and feel angry. One thing is for sure, I now know all the tell-tale signs of a cheat that every woman should watch out for, from the OTT charismatic behaviour to the clues in their choice of restaurant.So, how did I find myself snared by a series of cheaters?Looking back, I think it began when I found myself entangled in a love triangle with my boss – my first love and a man I was completely besotted with – when I was 23.Before starting my career in the Civil Service, I worked as a barmaid. My boss, the general manager, could be harsh, often shouting at staff. Despite this, I developed a crush on him. He was attractive and assertive. A ‘real man’.Yet he was 47, nearly double my age, so I assumed my feelings were one-sided.But just before I went on holiday, he told me he would miss me – then pulled me in for a kiss. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. When I returned, we began seeing each other. I became emotionally attached without fully understanding the situation I had stepped into.After several months, he admitted he was involved with a married woman. I’d had no idea he was seeing anyone else and was devastated.I should have ended it and looked for another job, but I was infatuated with him. I couldn’t bear to never see him again.The relationship lasted around two years before he lost interest. Heartbroken, I quit my job and rebuilt my life from scratch.At 26, I met Richard, a joiner, in a bar. He was in his late 30s and seemed perfectly respectable, almost gentlemanly. We dated for a few weeks. Then one Sunday I called him – and his wife answered.‘Richard!’ she shouted. ‘It’s Christina for you.’When he came to the phone, he told me I had the wrong number and hung up.I was furious. I’d had no idea he was married. He hadn’t worn a ring and had even told me he was single. There had been no warnings not to call him that might have raised my suspicions (perhaps he mistakenly assumed I would never call). In that moment, I genuinely believed every man on the planet was a liar.I never spoke to him again.Months later came Adrian the accountant. I cut him off after he was outed at the hotel breakfast. But this was the first time I decided to take revenge on an adulterer who had tricked me into being his mistress. Now 71 and single, I look back on my chequered love life and feel angryI frequently called his home number when I thought his wife would be in, always hanging up when she answered in the hopes she’d realise something was amiss. It didn’t seem to work; I don’t know whether he ever came clean but they remained married.Several months later, I started dating John, a pharmaceutical rep. I found out he was another cheat when he left his wallet on the table and inside was a photograph of him with his arms around another woman – his wife.‘You forgot to tell me about her,’ I said.‘Yeah,’ he replied casually. ‘No big deal.’I couldn’t get over this happening to me for a fourth time. Furious, I sent a provocative, perfume-sprayed letter to his wife, detailing our relationship. I wanted the truth to reach her, so she knew who her husband really was. I often wonder if she did the right thing by divorcing him. I hope she did.I was 27 and living in Manchester when I met Peter while out with friends. This time around, I was upfront and asked if he had a wife. He assured me he was single, but weeks later I found out it was all lies. Afterwards, I rang his landline number and did my best Scouse accent to disguise myself.When his wife answered, I told her Peter had stood me up. She screamed at me that she was his wife, to which I replied, ‘I never knew he was married.’I didn’t feel bad – I’d been hurt too many times and taking revenge helped me heal by putting the power back into my hands.Over time, my tactics towards the men who lied to me became more elaborate. Trevor was the sixth cheater I was involved with, when I was in my late 20s. I discovered he had a wife after he absent-mindedly turned up wearing his wedding ring one day.On Valentine’s Day, I sent him a provocative card, hoping his wife would open it.Later I phoned their landline, making sure his wife was within earshot, and told him I was pregnant with his baby. I remember the thrill of hearing him stammer in panic. As I hung up, I smiled, imagining his wife interrogating him afterwards.My mother overheard that call and told me I was hurting innocent wives, and that I should simply walk away.‘It’s not me,’ I insisted. ‘They’re the ones lying.’But perhaps she was right. Thankfully there were no call tracers back then, so I felt untouchable.In my early thirties, things took a darker turn. After confronting one man, number seven, about his lies, he attacked me in the street. He slapped me in the face, then took hold of my arm and swung me onto the ground where he began kicking me, breaking several of my ribs.I can still picture his face now. He was in an absolute frenzy of fury. And it was a stark reminder that deception could have very real, frightening consequences. I didn’t report it because I didn’t think I would be believed.Through my 30s, 40s and 50s, I had three normal committed relationships, which didn’t work out either.By my 60s, I felt like enough time had passed for me to try dating again. I was 67 when I met Scott, also 67, at a local charity group.We had struck up conversations during coffee breaks, before progressing to quiet cafés, just the two of us. He was confident and effortlessly chatty.I believed I might finally have found someone to spend the rest of my life with. Someone I could trust. As an older, more mature man, I hoped he would be different from my exes.When Scott and I had been together eight months, our group was putting on a fundraising show. We were waiting in the wings when he said: ‘I don’t believe it. My partner’s in the audience. She’ll probably pull my performance to pieces when we get home.’ I want other women to be wary. Don’t be afraid to ask questions early on, and pay attention to secrecy, as a man who is serious about you will not hide you awayTo say I was shocked was an understatement. My heart raced as I tried to process what I’d heard. He’d told me he was divorced, with children and grandchildren. But a partner?I thought I was wiser and better prepared. But I was wrong. Discovering his deception felt like truly the final straw. Being betrayed in my 60s felt even more devastating than it had in my 20s. Back then, I felt I had decades ahead of me to find the right person. Now, time suddenly felt much more precious, and the thought of starting over again was heartbreaking.This time my revenge was far more calculated than ever before. I turned detective and found his partner on Facebook. She was blonde, so I asked my hairdresser to dye my chestnut-coloured hair darker brown.The next time Scott and I met, I sprinkled strands of my hair on his chair and was delighted to see them stuck to his jacket when we got up to leave, hoping his partner would find them and realise his infidelity.Then I dumped him via a message, telling him, ‘I want someone single.’ Later I discovered that he and his partner had separated. I felt he deserved the heartbreak – and that she deserved far better.Now 71, I’ve been single ever since. I have learned that the more charming and attractive a man might seem, the more likely it is he’s a cheat. It’s almost as if they have been brought up to be so confident that it doesn’t matter who they trample in pursuit of what they want. All the cheaters I met were confident and charismatic, often bordering on arrogant.I want other women to be wary. Don’t be afraid to ask questions early on, and pay attention to secrecy, as a man who is serious about you will not hide you away. They should want to show you off and introduce you to their friends.My exes took me to seedy pubs and small, quiet cafés. I thought it was all part of the excitement, but now I realise they didn’t want anyone they knew to see me and were desperate to conceal their double life. They also never wanted to meet my friends – something I brushed off at the time but now recognise as a major red flag.You may be reading this and think you would never unknowingly fall for a cheat. But the likelihood is, you probably have and just didn’t realise at the time. Sadly, in 2024 the World Population Review found that 36 per cent of Britons admitted to cheating on their partner.I never chose to be ‘the other woman’, I was simply deceived time and again and it changed how I see men forever. I have never married or lived with a man and I don’t ever intend to.Having wasted so much time with cheating men, I feel as though my chances of finding lasting happiness have slipped away. There seem to be far more single women than single men my age, and after everything I’ve been through, it’s hard not to feel disheartened.What makes me angry is that I was the one who was deceived. I didn’t do anything wrong – I was simply looking for someone to share my life with – but while people feel sorry for the wife, they never think of the heartbreak and turmoil that the other woman goes through.While I know my vengeful actions must have caused the men’s wives distress, I can’t say I feel an awful lot of regret given the husbands were the wrongdoers. I just opened their eyes to it. Today, for the first time, I’m genuinely content being single. I’d rather be on my own than risk being lied to or treated as second best again. At my age, it often feels as though the only single men left are looking for a nurse or a purse. I’m not prepared to be either.Names have been changed. As told to JULIA SIDWELL