17. Date Three - Fairy Godfather

My third date I was excited about. As they say, 'third time lucky' (also three times a lady!) and I hoped this was true of dating too. My theory is that the more guys you meet you more you can compare and find out what you really want. What you want might not be anything like what you originally set out to get. I am finding that now.

The guy I was met last night is a proper, old fashioned, bona fide Sugar Daddy. That's what he does. He lives and works in Mayfair and owns a tonne of property in the area as well as about 20 hotels around the world. (Just a little background info for you.)

I got to Green Park station, my tube of choice! Nice leafy paintings on the wall, a good flow of people, a suprisingly talented busker and trains with door guards so you can't fall on the track and die, what more could you want? He met me in a Range Rover I would kill for if I wasn't so against them. I am really becoming a car girl now since I have been experiencing all these Top-Gear-appearance-worthy cars that would put my poor little KA to shame! He is lovely and I like him straight away.

I really do trust my instincts on things like this. I am lucky (touch wood) that in all my life with all the risks that young girls take when they think they're invincible nothing bad's ever really happened to me. When I meet people I tend to know if they're dodgy or not - I am a firm believer in the more you trust your instincts the more they will work for you.

Anyway, back to the point. We go to Mortons in Berkley Square for drinks first, is lovely although I am more and more thinking he is G A Y! He is totally into fashion and where I am usually proud of my smart budget shopping and Primark finds I begin to wish I had paid more attention to the latest collections that were out. (Note to self: Buy Vogue and do homework)

He offers to take me shopping as he LOVES women's clothes and shoes (cross dresser alert) and even offered to book up an appointment for me at a top London hairdressers as apparantly my hair is too blonde. Should I be offended or grateful for this help? I decide on the latter as I am becoming ever-determined to lose my typical 'Essex' tag.

Now at this point I know you may all be screaming,

'But what's happened to Essex Girl, she wouldn't let no man tell her what to
wear or how to do her hair!'

and you're right. I ordinarily wouldn't. But what you're thinking of is a girl getting ready to go out and her boyfriend saying, don't wear that short skirt - wear these jeans and an ugly top from T K Maxx - NO! I am talking about taking up invaluable advice and the offer of free shopping from a guy who clearly knows his stuff. He knows all about what shoes Louboutin have brought out this season, exactly what shades I need in my hair to accentuate my skin tone and is like Trinny, Susannah and the Fairy Godmother I never had all rolled into one big man with good shoes.

We go on to dinner at some lovely chinese place and it's a reminder of my Aspinalls date - this place was possibly even fussier though. Even though the bottle of water and our glasses were all close to hand on the table he called the waiter to fill up our glasses. The weird thing is - I am getting strangely used to it all. At the beginning I found it disturbing to be hovered over constantly and watched for anything I might need. Now I find it comforting knowing that I don't really need to do anything. I have been to some amazing places over the last week and had some fabulous dinners (with fabulous little waiters!) and I am loving it all. Fairy Godfather has more money than he can spend and actively seeks girls to spend it on - I like!! We go on to a private member's club in Soho and have our last drinks of the night before I say it's too late and I have to go home, Cinderella stylee.

He gets me a car and pays for it to take me all the way home which is handy and says he wants to see me again the following night. I have a date with Old But Gold that night and there's also the issue of late nights and trains to Essex - they just don't mix. However, he tells me he owns apartments all over London and I can have one to use whenever I like - and so now there is no excuse to not stay out with him tomorrow night. 'Good work' I think to myself, and promptly agree, making a mental note to let Old But Gold down gently tomorrow.

I finally get home at about 3:00am and suprise myself by waking up on time and heading straight back to London not even five hours after I left it.