Ronan Keating, how could you?

If there's a thing that can be said about mobile phones, it is that they are the making - but also the breaking - of an illicit love affair.

The latest casualty? Mr Ronan Keating - the singer who dropped by our shores last month. If you're not one for celebrity gossip, here's the red-top headline: 'Ronan Keating's sex texts to blonde dancer: Seven-month affair exposed after wife found secret phone'.

Surely, there's not a man in the world we can trust? Et tu, Ronan? Who would have thought? Certainly not I. When I interviewed him less than a couple of months ago, apart from the fact that he was refreshingly un-popstarish, down-to-earth and understated, he didn't stop talking about his wife of 12 years. He did it in an endearing sort of way, with a certain truth in his eyes (I'm not just being a romantic here - you can see it for yourself online).

He said, for example, that before he goes up on stage, he always has to call his wife, who is, he insisted, not jealous at all about him being constantly mobbed by girls: "Not in the least. No way. I'm the jealous one in the family," he said.

When I asked him how he could have known that Yvonne was The One, he said unblinkingly: "I guess you just know. When it feels right, it feels right. That was the choice I made and it was the right choice and I was lucky enough to find the right one."

Ooh, I thought to myself, how sweet (this was end of March, by the way; the alleged affair had already been long underway. His mobile phone kept buzzing throughout the interview - could it have been the secret mobile, I'm now asking myself?)

By the end of the interview my girlfriends were already texting: "So did you go weak at the knees?" (I'm, err, known for having a bit of a soft spot for the Irish accent).

"Pfft. Shut up. He's the ultimate family man," I replied. I came back telling all and sundry how he's restored my faith in men: "There is hope after all. There are decent lads around," I told my sister.

I would have bet my lifetime savings (true, that's just a pittance) that if anyone would risk blowing his marriage away for a bit of a 'rollercoaster' ride - it wouldn't be Ronan.

This guy was clearly smitten with his wife, had three lovely kids, two huge dogs, and there he was telling me how all of them went for long walks by the beach on perfect sunny days. I mean, too good to be true.

And well it seems that it was too good to be true. Here's how he spent last weekend according to the tabloids: "Ronan, a devout Catholic, has paid several visits to his family priest to confess his sins and seek forgiveness."

Well. It all allegedly started with an innocent friendship. So, let us try and find a moral in this story; let us ponder the following question: if we are married, can we have friends of the opposite sex?

I bounced the question about. The gist of about the 30 lengthy answers I got was 'Yes but...' The 'but' referring to the importance of keeping some sort of boundaries - whatever those might be.

Only a dear friend gave me an outright no: "I do not believe in such friendships - usually one party ends up crossing the line somewhere: when two souls meet, chemistry follows."

She is right of course, but I suppose it's not easy to stop relating to the opposite sex just because one of you or both are married. Jeremy Clarkson, the alpha-man of Top Gear, has it spot on: "I cannot be arsed to think a single original thought when I'm surrounded by men. But throw a woman into the mix and usually I have developed a new world order by tea time."

So what are we to do? In situations where we can't be friends with both parts of a couple, I suppose the best way is to have the absent spouse always present in spirit.

And lying - even if it's the merest, tiniest of lies - is a no-go area. The first lie will inevitably lead to a secret mobile phone. And look where that got our Irish lad.

With the news that Ronan is single, came another barrage of texting: "Off to Ireland?"; "Ha! Told you he was gay!"; "The cheating ass!"; "Darlin' you missed your chance!"

But perhaps, it was this which hit the nail on the head: "Sigh. Prince Charming really is a fairytale."

And for this, just for this, I say: Ronan Keating, how could you?