‘It’s £10,’ the girl snapped at me from behind her lectern at the top of the stairs at Floridita.
‘I’m on the guest list,’ I replied. The girl rolled her eyes.

There have been numerous times when Hot Danish and I have suffered short shrift or just plain rudeness while out on a date: the waiter at Crazy Homies who demanded to know if we’d return if he gave us a free shot when I complained about his service (‘No and I won’t be recommending here to anyone else either,’ was HD’s quick reply); the cab driver who mocked HD’s choice for our second date because he wasn’t sure of the address (‘I’ve never heard of it. It isn’t exactly Nobu); the 20-minute wait to get served at Upstairs at the Oak (we left at that point as no one else had been served during that time either).

There are certainly times when it’s best not to complain. Another table once complained on my behalf about the food at one restaurant. The waitress was really apologetic and offered dessert on the house; more awful food came out. And if you do completely lose your cool you certainly don’t want to return to the venue. HD was picked out from a queue at Raffles and told to get lost. Six months previously HD had told the doorman that he was going to hire a private detective to dig up every bit of dirt on him to use it against him.

‘I do think guys and couples receive worse service than when girls are out on their own,’ Natasha said when I moaned to her about the Floridita moment. Perhaps it’s because there’s the presumption guys cause trouble and couples are insular. Whatever the reason, there’s nothing worse than being the recipient of rude behaviour during an evening out. It may be shallow, but I find it effective to say to Hot Danish as I walk away from surly service, ‘Do you think it’s because she’s ugly/Do you think it’s because he’s going bald?’