My lunch at the swanky Estelle Manor to meet a millionaire... but this is why I'm not so sure about him: LIZ JONES

A friend has invited me for lunch at the swanky and expensive Estelle Manor in Oxfordshire. She’s a member. I’m not one to use friends as human Google (‘What time does the England match kick off?’ has been a frequent question aimed at me this summer), so I email the hotel’s reception to ask how easy it is to arrive by train. I am loath to drive my recently purchased 25-year-old classic Range Rover (I had to take out a second mortgage to buy it for just under £10,000; please don’t tell the Halifax) for four hours. I received this in reply:‘Our estate is accessible to our members and hotel guests only. We would be delighted to host you overnight, so do let us know if we can help you to arrange a stay. Alternatively, if you’re interested in applying for membership, please find out more here.’ I know you are members only! (How many times do I have to wheel out Monica?) Just answer the question!The reason for the lunch is to not-so-subtly introduce me to a millionaire; let’s hope he’s a member too and isn’t rugby tackled at the entrance. If we get on, we can then go for dinner; I’m not sure I can manage two meals, but still. I’ve seen a photo (this isn’t Love Is Blind), and he’s not really my type, which is thin and wiry with piggy eyes and hair snaking over a collar. But maybe my type isn’t working.The reason I have always dated way below my caste is lack of self-esteem. So, if my boyfriend has no money, I have the power. If he lives in a housing association flat with rubbish and old ovens in the ‘garden’ or, worse, with his mum, he won’t cheat as most sane women would recoil.Join the discussionShould women compromise on attraction for financial security when dating?What's your view?As I have become older, I am getting over that mindset.At a recent wedding, I noticed so many women wearing clunky platforms, with uninteresting jobs and visible tummies encased in floral high-street sundresses (did you see – said with Chandler Bing emphasis – Mrs Andy Burnham, on his anointment day, in that ill-judged pale-blue frock that made her look washed out? Who put her in that, for God’s sake? Clothes are meant to be armour; they should never betray us!) and I simply had to message my friend in Belfast in despair: ‘Why don’t I have a powerful husband? Why was I the only single woman at that wedding?’For the lunch date I plan to wear a 26-year-old Prada pencil skirt, just on the knee, with a navy sweater: I’ve found the perfect one, shaped like an outsize sweatshirt, by Tutti, a label ‘designed by women for women’ – only £89. Strappy heels. No handbag as I’ve just read carrying one ages you; now it’s all about ‘girl grip’ (clutching your essentials in your hands). I’ve also just read a piece by a young woman in New York who says she won’t go on a date unless the man not only pays for dinner, but sends a car to pick her up then take her home again. When I met David 1.0 for dinner at dear departed Locanda Locatelli, I not only paid for dinner, I booked an Uber to take him home, not realising I could not then book one for me, as the app doesn’t allow multiple rides. I had to wait in the rain until he was deposited at home.There has been a backlash about the young woman who demands an Uber Black, but do bear in mind how much single women (not married ones, if that wedding was anything to go by) spend on preparation for a date. Before the wedding, when I wasn’t even the bride, I spent just over £200 on beauty treatments and hair colour and cut, plus I splashed out on new make-up from Il Makiage (its subscription service is near impossible to leave, like the gym), fake tan from Clarins, M2 Beauté lash serum and Moroccan hair oil. None of which nabbed me a second glance. But I don’t feel it was wasted. It’s about self-respect.So, I message my Estelle Manor-frequenting friend. If the millionaire wants to meet me, I have a 15-mile exclusion zone. If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, I’d rather just stay home and rewatch The Ballad Of Wallis Island. Jones moans... What Liz loathes this weekI can no longer listen to Radio 4’s Woman's Hour. Everything about being a woman is a problem. A ludicrous recent example? ‘Does your ADHD make menstruation more painful?’ And, after Burnham took the helm, ‘Only one in four of the great offices of state is a woman.’ Maybe it’s that we’re too busy moaning about painful periods?