I’d forgotten to tell Tennis Player that he couldn’t get into Lebanon if he had an Israeli stamp in his passport. While being marched off to a separate room at customs, he tried scrubbing the stamp out. ‘I knew I couldn’t leave you here on your own,’ he told me later. ‘So I had to give them the “Don’t you know who I am?” line and name-drop some tournaments and other tennis pros.’ I was impressed. I’d arrived before him at the Four Seasons and checked into a double room despite requesting a twin. I left a note on the bed saying to join me on the rooftop bar and joked that I couldn’t be bothered to request a change in room because of the amazing view; it overlooked a building site. It turned out we didn’t need twin beds.

‘Is there anywhere we can look at in this area?’ Tennis Player asked a local, circling half of the map. The man wanted to help us but was drawing a blank. ‘Is there anywhere historical?’ Tennis Player added hopefully. I nudged him. Had he temporarily forgotten that there wasn’t much from before the ‘80s? Finally, the man advised us to visit Jeita Grotto, a 40-minute drive from Beirut.

It seems that the nightlife is what Beirut excels at. We gatecrashed a wedding and ate too much at Fakher Al Dean, a hilltop restaurant; drank at Sky Bar where the new moneyed pose (there’s a two-month waiting list for a table) and returned to the glam Four Seasons’ rooftop bar for a nightcap.

I had more trouble leaving the country than arriving. ‘You are beautiful. You are 33. Why aren’t you married?’
‘I haven’t met the right person yet,’ I told the guy at customs.
‘Are you a TV presenter? Are you famous?’ He continued. ‘What kind of journalism do you do?’
‘Lifestyle journalism; nothing political.’
‘Have you ever been to Israel?’
‘No.’
‘You journalists work too much.’ He finally let me through to the airport lounge.

‘You need to stop telling guys you don’t want kids,’ Kat said after the Jamie Cullum set at the launch of the newly refurbished Met Bar (now without a members-only policy). ‘It makes you seem hard and you’re certainly not.’ I’d told her that Tennis Player wants kids.

At the bar we started talking to a guy. Kat and I were tipsy by then. The guy asked for my number and before I could answer Kat said, ‘Sometimes WLG doesn’t know what’s right, so I’m going to give you her number.’ I received a text not long after I got home, ‘I really enjoyed talking to you this evening and would like the opportunity to hear more about your life and travels around the world.’ I found myself yearning to be served-and-volleyed by Tennis Player again.