Jake had come to Brighton with me to see my friend Kate perform in the Brighton Goes Gospel choir. I was looking forward to Jake meeting some of my friends and my mum. Afterwards he said that I didn’t look like my mum. We all check out the parents to see how our boyf/girlf will age; Jake struggled to hide his fear that I might look like her in my old age. I explained that my mum has always partied a lot more than me.

That night I got a little tipsy. Back in our stylish room in Hotel du Vin I got carried away and cringingly said I loved him. A few days later he asked me if I meant it, ‘Because I’m not in love with you’. He revealed that he wanted to be honest because he hadn’t been in his previous relationship. He felt like our relationship was comfortable and every time he sees me he likes me more, ‘It feels real rather than pie-in-the-sky romantic. When I first met you I was worried I’d be here in Paris pining for you, but I’m not.’ This wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear; I wanted the declaration of love, the flowers and daily texts saying he missed me. This lack of romance and mystery is a little unsettling but perhaps it’s better than my previous relationships which were full of grand gestures but didn’t have the fairytale endings…

I met up with Sarah at The Botanist, Sloane Square, for a drink on Tuesday. She’d been calm and collected at the start of her slow-burning relationship and is now preparing to get married next month so I thought she could put me at ease. ‘I thought the blood-red-artwork-owning ex was a bit ‘80s, turning up with all those red roses for the first date at Zuma,’ she smiled. ‘Make sure you enjoy the coming weeks and months with your Parisian beau. Whatever will be, will be, whether you stress or not,’ she said. I’m consoling myself with the fact that honesty is, at least, a sign of true friendship.