I may have just had my 50th birthday, but I feel as if it was my debutante ball all over again. After leaving my party with Angel, the gorgeous Argentinian cocktail waiter, we've been inseparable. As Natalia said, "Darling, it's definitely the L word - and that word is lust."
But it might be more than that. I love the way he lets me look after him. His work as a model/actor/whatever is sporadic, which gives me more time to spoil him. Madonna may have bought Jesus £30,000 worth of DJ lessons and equipment, but that's nothing compared with what I spend on Angel. Suits by Raf Simons, Todd Lynn, Tom Ford… it's so nice to be able to buy clothes for a man again. It's a shame Angel never seems to want to wear them - he just lies on my sofa wrapped in my Nicole Farhi throw all day - but I suppose it's the thought that counts.
His friends don't dress very smartly, either. He keeps bringing parties back to mine at 3am - it's good that the basement pool is getting some use, but I've had to stop him from using the Marc Jacobs Waterford Crystal glasses - since the company went bust they're far too collectable to drink out of.
He's been taking me to some very exciting places, though. Ever since Prince Harry and Princess Beatrice went to that warehouse rave in Hoxton, I've been dying to go - Bond Street being the furthest east I'd ever normally stray.
I mean, if I want to lie by a rooftop pool, I'm more likely to jet to Soho House New York than make the trek to Shoreditch House.
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Still, he took me to the Deco Lounge on Great Eastern Street, where we danced all night to funky house, with so many beautiful young people (Agyness Deyn, Alice Dellal...) that it was like being at Jade Jagger's in Ibiza, rather than a stone's throw from Albert Square (Piggy's addicted to soaps). And it was the perfect excuse to rock my ripped Balmain jeans - Natalia won't let me out wearing them, even if they did cost more than £1,000.
"You look gorgeous," Angel growled, blowing me a kiss from his perfect Angelina-sized lips as I bought his friends a round of beer. I knew he meant it because it was the first thing he'd said to me all night. He really is dreamy.