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My friend Kerry, tired of my moaning, had told me about an upmarket dating agency that takes on only high-achieving rich people.'You need someone generous,' she said, my husband's name unspoken between us, 'with a bank account, not a piggy bank'.New York, New York: Liz on a date in Mahattan He sits down. He orders me another glass of champagne, and tells me about his ex-wife.'She was great eye candy,' he says, confirming that all men would like you to believe the women in their lives are great beauties.
I find it annoying that, when I tell him I work for a newspaper, he doesn't even ask which one. ' Thanks to the international nature of Mairead's contacts, the next date is to take place in New York.
Mairead, who is 38, blonde and delightfully blunt, asks me to fill her in on my background, and tell her what I look for in a man.
I tell her I was married to someone much younger who never paid for anything.
I tell her I'd prefer someone around my own age (she tells me I don't look 50, and am in fact 'slim, fashionable and gorgeous', which makes me want to date her), but they must be boyish rather than Steptoe-like (I tell her Imran Khan could be her template, although I wouldn't date him as I don't think my cats would want to live in Pakistan).
I'm not interested in the boring banker types that make up the bulk of her clients.