As told to Ann DeGrey

I'd matched with Pete* on a dating app one night and, after chatting for a couple of weeks, I thought it'd be fun to meet up in person. He seemed normal enough, nice looking, a bit nerdy (I was attracted to nerdy men at that stage of my life) and very well-dressed.

He suggested dinner at a small Italian place I'd been to before, and I knew the location was romantic, just in case we were headed in that direction. I was ready to start a new relationship as it had been almost a year since my last one ended.

And even though it had ended badly, I felt like I had nothing to lose by getting back into the dating game.

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The first date went better than I expected. Pete was much cuter in the flesh and had a very infectious laugh. We talked about everything from music, to travel, to sh*tty work colleagues. He walked me to my car afterwards and gave me a nice hug.

Pete texted later to say he'd had a fun night and ask me if I'd like another date in a couple of days. I said yes right away and that second evening started very nicely.

Pete ordered us both a glass of red wine, and we settled at a corner table. Then, halfway through the evening, he looked at me with a small smile.

"I know you've got an interesting background. You spent time in prison when you were younger. For fraud?" he asked.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was mortified!

I'd only ever told two friends about that part of my life; a close girlfriend and my ex-boyfriend, a man I really trusted at the time.

My brush with the law happened more than ten years ago, when I was mixing with the wrong crowd. Along with a guy I was having a casual relationship with, I helped fake some documents for quick cash and paid for it with a short stint behind bars.

There isn't much to say about it aside from the fact that I served my time, got out and changed forever.

I wasn't sure how to respond to Pete. How the hell did he know? I just wanted to end the conversation, so I just said, "That's none of your business."

Pete said, "Okay, fair enough." But his eyes had this strange spark, like he was waiting to see how I would react.

So I didn't want to give him any reaction at all. But, inside, I felt exposed, like he'd reached into my past and dragged it into the restaurant.

I finished the meal on autopilot and made an excuse about an early start the next day.

But that night I lay awake replaying every word. How could he possibly know? I'd always been very careful about keeping my past secret.

The only person outside my family who knew was my ex, Mark*.

We'd broken up badly two years earlier, but I still believed he'd keep my secret. A few days later, I got the answer.

A mutual friend from my old office asked if I'd been out with Pete recently. When I said yes, she told me I should know that Pete and Mark were good mates. They played in the same footy team and caught up regularly.

Mark had apparently mentioned my past one night after a few drinks, laughing about it like it was some funny story from long ago. He'd spread it around, telling Pete and a couple of the other guys, as if my lowest moment was just gossip to pass the time.

The betrayal hit harder than the dinner itself. Mark wasn't just my ex; he had been the person I leaned on during the worst parts of my life. I had cried about the shame of prison, about how scared I was that it would follow me forever. He'd sworn he'd never tell a soul.

Now he had handed my secret to his mate like it was nothing. And Pete had taken that information, used it on a second date, and watched me squirm.

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I blocked Pete's number that day as I didn't want explanations or excuses. It felt deliberate, like he'd walked into that date armed with something private and painful just to see what would happen. Maybe he thought it would make him look understanding.

Maybe he enjoyed the power of knowing something I had worked so hard to hide.

I deleted my dating app profile for a while, then put it back up with even less information.

I keep wondering who else Mark has told. I keep wondering if my past is quietly circulating among people I will never meet.

*Names have been changed to protect identities.

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