To break into this exclusive dating pool, I just had to sign up and convince my dates that I was one of them. In the space of a couple of days and a few flirty messages, I had been promised flights across the world, opera tickets and stays in swanky hotels.
But I wanted to see how much I could blag in the space of one evening – in exchange for nothing more than my own dazzling conversation.
I like champagne, expensive cheese and silk sheets. I mostly subsist on frozen pizzas and can't afford so much as an overnight in a Southampton Travelodge. Billed as a kind of "Tinder minus the poor people", it offers to "income verify" its members to ensure that only the highest calibre young ballers British society has to offer are able to bang each other.
Born in Battersea, I'd inherited a media company and spent my days swanning around Harrods and investing in property. This one was equally unpleasant but, hey ho, it was booze, so down my throat it went. You look like this girl in an article I read the other day." I laughed the shrill nasal squawk of a rich, older woman. Unlike Piers, my second date, Henri*, was on time to meet me at the station.He'd also ordered some oysters, which I can only assume was his idea of a suave move. He told me he didn't want to go for a drink around Sloane Square as it was too pretentious.