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One drunken night, I spotted a rugby team partying at a long table.

I jumped on it and knocked back their drinks one by one.

Life was a blur of moneyed suitors and over-the-top parties.

It was more than I could have ever imagined when I was a little girl growing up in the modest town of Hartlepool in northern England. They met in school and married at 16; their love was unshakable. My father — a sales director for an insurance company — would take us on a few holidays a year.

It was a lot to put up with, especially for my meager starting salary of 12,000 pounds (about ,000) for my 1,000 flying hours a year. From the Caribbean to South Africa, I had a guy at every port.

My favorite spot in Barbados was this club full of hot guys.

Eventually, I started dating a pilot-in-training named Jonathan.

His wings ceremony was epic — held at Sir Richard Branson’s mansion in Cambridge.

Richard shook my hand and welcomed me to the party. Richard managed to spray everyone with all the open bottles.I was spending my layover in Dubai lying by the pool at a five-star hotel when a server came over with a bottle of Dom Pérignon.Then, a dark-haired hunk in a crisp white shirt approached me.We spent the night sailing around the Persian Gulf, holding hands and munching on salmon tartare, lobster and caviar.This romantic evening with the handsome billionaire was one of many glamorous dates I had during my 10-year tenure as a Virgin Airlines flight attendant.

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