Nude awakenings
We were about to get married, till I learned his sleazy secret
Swiping through my dating app, I caught sight of a silver-haired fella in a naval uniform. Member of the Royal Australian Navy, Fred’s profile read.
It was May 2018 and, following a break-up, I was single and ready to mingle.
What do you do when you’re not at sea? I messaged Fred playfully.
I’m an artist, he replied. After chatting, it wasn’t long before we met to have dinner together.
I spotted Fred, 54, across the restaurant straight away.
Tall, well-built, with a good head of grey hair, he was a real silver fox.
Nervous energy bubbled away inside me.
But, almost immediately, he set me at ease.
‘You look amazing,’ he beamed, pulling out my chair.
The perfect gent. Charming, handsome, he listened when I spoke.
Rare for a man, I thought. ‘I’d like to show you my paintings some time,’ he smiled.
‘Sounds lovely,’ I grinned. Two weeks later, I took him up on his invitation.
Back at his place, hundreds of his paintings and drawings lined the walls. All naked women. They were so lifelike, with so much detail in every inch of exposed body.
I gulped, a pang of jealousy taking me by surprise.
And what Fred said next didn’t help, either.
‘I’ve had many women pose for me,’ he grinned.
‘Really?’ I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.
Only, I realised I was being a bit irrational. After all, he was an artist. No need to feel insecure. ‘You’re very talented,’ I smiled.
Before long, we were in a serious relationship.
But my four kids weren’t exactly taken by Fred, or his art.
‘Why can’t he paint a fruit bowl?’ my eldest daughter Chloe, then 26, scoffed.
‘He’s tried landscapes before, but says it’s not his niche,’ I explained.
Anyway, I was happy with Fred.
He was laid-back, and we rarely rowed.
In January 2020, we went on a romantic holiday.
As we sipped champagne one night, Fred suddenly produced a ring.
‘Will you marry me, Melissa?’ he gushed, staring into my eyes.
Only, rather than being happy, I felt an uneasy sense of doubt ripple through me.
But he’s a good man, I told myself.
‘Yes,’ I smiled, after a pause, taking the ring.
I hadn’t intended to marry again.
I’d divorced in 2012, and had another painful break-up since then too. But Fred made me feel wanted.
I moved in with him shortly after.
In September 2020, we were watching a film when his phone pinged. I could see it was a text from his Navy mate Patrick, who I’d met briefly. Send me the photos, he’d typed, followed by vile language explaining that he wanted them to pleasure himself to. Fred snatched the phone and got up.
‘Just going to the bathroom,’ he said.
I sat there shell-shocked. Had I really read that? Disgusting. I wondered if I should ignore it. Deep down, I was scared. Maybe I didn’t want to know. Only, I couldn’t unsee it. ‘What did you reply to Patrick’s text?’ I snapped when Fred came back in. ‘I didn’t get a text from him,’ Fred frowned.
‘I know what I saw,’ I insisted, demanding he hand me his phone. Reluctantly, he did. What I saw made me feel sick.
Fred had sent Patrick nude photos of a woman, taken in his studio.
‘I should have listened to my gut feeling about you,’ I raged.
‘It’s so wrong, I know. I promise I’ll get help,’ Fred begged.
He tried to give excuses for his behaviour, but I wasn’t convinced.
Who was this man I’d agreed to marry?
Days later, Fred was at work so I opened Facebook Messenger on his tablet.
Anxiously scrolling through his messages, I found the photo shoot in question.
The poor woman was a fellow service member in the Navy.
Years ago she’d agreed to pose, for artistic purposes.
To think her images were now being passed around to use like porn. Vile.
Then I read messages Fred had sent back and forth with his friend Fletcher about the woman.
Some were so crude, it made me sick to my stomach.
This poor woman was being exploited.
And my fiancé was doing it. I was horrified and heartbroken all at once.
When Fred arrived home that evening, I threw my engagement ring at him.
‘I’m not marrying you!’ I screamed.
What I saw on Fred’s phone made me feel sick
The colour drained from his face.
‘You’re not an artist, you’re just a seedy middleaged man,’ I seethed.
Defeated, he watched me silently as I packed my bags.
I wanted to put it all behind me, but I had a duty to tell this poor woman what Fred had been doing.
It was harder than breaking off my engagement.
I wrote to her on Facebook and she agreed to a call.
‘This is going to be hard to hear,’ I began, telling her everything.
She gasped in horror.
‘I’ll support whatever decision you make,’ I told her.
She reported the matter to the Navy, which took it very seriously.
An investigation culminated in a Defence Force Magistrate’s Court trial in August 2022.
The hearing heard that the servicewoman had sat for Fred in March 2015.
He’d taken three photos of her either nude or in a state of undress.
Fred Whitson, then 58, pleaded guilty to two counts of using a phone to menace, harass, or cause offence, and prejudicial conduct, which resulted in his dismissal from the Navy.
Fletcher Mitchell, then 38, admitted using a phone to menace, harass, or cause offence, and had his rank reduced.
In a victim impact statement, the victim described feeling ‘betrayed’ and ‘objectified’.
She’d believed the photos were purely for artist reference.
Not to be passed around her fellow servicemen for their sexual gratification.
‘I feel humiliated, anxious and judged,’ she said.
At a later hearing, Patrick Beaman, then 39, also had his rank reduced and was fined $1,000 [£530] after the magistrate found him guilty of prejudicial conduct.
Thankfully, I haven’t seen Fred since court.
Watching the victim receive justice, I realised how important it was that I’d spoken up.
But I was devastated. I’d had yet another failed relationship.
Now, I’m with a true gentleman, Michael, 58.
There’s a mutual respect and honesty in our relationship that I’ve never known before.
I thought I’d planned to marry a gentleman of the sea.
Really, he was just a sordid sailor who shared a grimy secret with his sad pals.
The victim said she felt humiliated, anxious and judged