When he arrives, he apologises profusely for being late (he isn’t). I give him time to remove his jacket and order a glass of pompous-sounding vin rouge. Then I launch into a well-worn speech.

I tell him we’ve had fun over the last few months but that this is our last date and we won’t be seeing each other again. He looks utterly crestfallen.

Yes, he is easy on the eye — tall with a good body — but my goodness he is dull. A banker, he has a gorgeous flat in Maida Vale, North London, refuses to ever let me pay my way, but his preferred reading material is the City pages of the newspaper, while I pour over the celebrity gossip. We just aren’t on the same page. I gulp down my glass of pinot grigio, stand up, kiss him on the cheek and trot out the door. No regrets whatsoever.

This was 1999 and I was 28. If I sound cold, I had already called time on a good dozen relationships by that point. The endings always instigated by me.

Samantha Brick with her French husband Pascal on their wedding day. What started as a holiday romance became the love of my life, writes Samantha

Fast-forward 25 years and at 53 I am proud to say I have never been dumped by a man.

This is despite having had two marriages, five other serious and countless shorter relationships. I wonder how many women can say the same?

I like to think this demonstrates that I know my own mind. And I’d far rather young women read about feminine trailblazers like me than those boo-hoo Bridget Jones clichés.

Yes, of course, heartbreak is a universal human experience. I’ve certainly known loss — losing beloved pets and mourning the fact I wouldn’t become a mother. Those episodes of saying goodbye were far more significant than a break-up.

That’s not to say I didn’t feel anything when I dumped boyfriends. But I knew there was something better in life for each party and I was usually right.

What’s the secret to never being ditched? For once I don’t think it’s just down to my looks, my figure, my general loveliness and my unshakeable confidence.

No, I suspect what men probably see in me is that, quite simply, I’m good girlfriend and wife material. I’ve been called the ‘whole package’ on more than one occasion.

The truth is I understand what men really want in a relationship — and how knowing it means the woman can stay in control. For starters, I don’t shy away from the differences between the sexes.

Men love to channel their inner caveman, whether that means carrying the suitcase for foreign jaunts or getting a fire going in a holiday cottage. And why would I rain on their parade like so many of my contemporaries do in the name of equality?

As for my skills, the way to a man’s heart is, as they say, through his tummy and I am a good cook and a brilliant hostess. I make a mean spag bol and my tablescaping would leave the most committed homemaker seething with envy. (Top tip — if you want something, and you know it’s going to be a tricky conversation to achieve it, then only raise it after you’ve fed and watered him.)

Yes, I expect a man to pull his weight with everything from housework to finances. But I also understand that he wants my world to revolve around him. And I’m happy to give him that impression — in reality of course, I am not so self-effacing.

What’s the secret to never being ditched? For once I don’t think it’s just down to my looks, writes Samantha. No, I suspect what men probably see in me is I’m good girlfriend and wife material

As for sex, I enjoy it and have always been happy to instigate it. Men take great pride in seeing their partner experience true sexual satisfaction and I am only too happy to ensure I achieve it. I’m not sure many British women can say that.

I also have emotional intelligence in spades. I listen, really listen, to them (with men you’re looking out for what they’re not saying between the words), and usually (but gently) offer them guidance on everything from their friends to work colleagues.

Of course the real trick is to make them think they came up with the solution by themselves.

One friend (platonic and male, as it happens) once commented that the reason I’m such a hit with men is that I’m a bit of a chameleon; showcasing the aspects of my personality that will appeal to them. I was happy to take the compliment because I suspect he’s right.

As a teenager in the 1980s, the ballsy women of Dallas, Dynasty and Jackie Collins’ books taught me to be a strong, confident woman who knows what she wants — and how to get it.

I was first asked out at 16 by a boy in my class at school in Birmingham and we went out for two years. Then he got heavy about ‘our future’. What future? I was going to sixth-form college and then to university in London.

Channelling my inner Alexis Colby, I bluntly told him we were finished — and proceeded to blank him. I started seeing a mutual friend, which, on reflection, was perhaps a bit crass. No wonder we never spoke again.

Samantha with her college boyfriend on their wedding day who she dated three separate times but went on to divorce

After that came my college boyfriend — who I would date three times and even go on to marry (briefly). Tall, blonde and good-looking, we were mirror images of one another really.

We had two wonderful years when he was the yin to my yang — I was very into the gym and going out with girlfriends while he was more into watching obscure films and playing the guitar. He bought me clothes, made endless mix tapes and I knew he loved me.

But after I moved to London, the distance proved too much. On a trip home, I dumped him on the number 50 bus bound for Birmingham city centre. He didn’t say much so I didn’t feel too guilty.

The one waiting in the wings — confident, brash and worldly-wise — became my university boyfriend. We even lived in his gran’s rather lovely Chelsea flat together. He told me he loved me fairly early on and, after a short period of reflection, the feeling became mutual.

We’d cook for one another and go away together but I became bored of the routine. My relationship yardstick was ‘Can I see myself never sleeping with anyone else again?’ And the answer was a firm no.

So I dispatched him on a bench in sunny Soho Square when I was weeks away from graduating. I thanked him for three wonderful years and assured him ‘It’s not me, it’s you…’

Soon after, I got back together with my college boyfriend. We were genuinely in love — I even relocated to Brighton to live with him while he was still at university.

But while I was working as a television researcher, he was focused on his studies and hanging out with his slacker-style mates. After a year, I dumped him again — this time over the phone. He was far from happy but I let him say his piece.

I spent much of my 20s watching Sex And The City and, inspired by the man-eater Samantha, as played by Kim Cattrall, I leapfrogged from one short-lived relationship to another. There were work liaisons, friends of friends, university mates too.

This is when I really refined my dumping technique.

Back then, you had to do the deed face-to-face or — coward’s way! — on the phone. I got good at telling men what their finer points were, while letting them down gently. I said they’d make an excellent husband — just not mine! I was constantly told I’d make a good wife.

During each of those dozens of relationships, I learned what really makes a man tick. How much men love to be made a fuss of. That whether we like it or not, deep down, they want someone who can cook, gets along famously with their mum, will watch the football, instigates sex and generally looks after them. And while it may go against popular opinion, that’s fine with me.

Trust me when I say you can do all these things and still maintain the power in the relationship; I’m no man’s doormat.

One boyfriend and I made countless trips to India, every single one prompted by yours truly, igniting my lifelong fascination with yoga and Indian philosophy. But I bet if you were to ask my ex he’d tell you those holidays were all his idea.

While countless friends fell for commitment-phobes, I would only date men who actively pursued me. Why bother with non-starters? As my 20s drew to a close, however, I got caught up with the ‘marry before 30’ mantra. I got chatting with my old college boyfriend — yes, him again! — and we tied the knot, all forgiven and forgotten.

I naively assumed third time would prove a charm. But I wasn’t afraid to finish things for the third time when the same old Saturday Waitrose shop, Sunday morning sex routine began to pall.

It might sound harsh but there’s no point in eking things out when you know it’s not right. Laser-focused on my television career — he saw my job as the third party in our relationship — I accepted a position as a creative head for a production company in Los Angeles.

I dreaded breaking things off with my fabulous mother-in-law (who referred to me as the daughter she never had) more than my then husband. I sobbed and sobbed the entire Christmas and New Year over losing her.

But I was fair to him during the divorce and even gave him part of our agreed pay-off upfront so he could take his new girlfriend on holiday. That’s the thing with men, they don’t stay in heartbreak hotel mode for very long — and why should they?

Men are robust, men are very good at bouncing back, men do not view break-ups as a defining ‘before and after’ moment in their lives the way some of us women do. It’s why when I hear my female compatriots weeping and wailing about taking a long time to get over a divorce, I honestly want to give them the ‘Look, love’ conversation about getting a bloody grip.

In LA, I was impressed by how Californian women navigated relationships. They genuinely didn’t view a relationship breakdown as the end of the world. The attitude was there were plenty more fish.

I had a few post-divorce flings with men I had no intention of settling down with. By now I had my dumping techniques down to a fine art: ‘Thanks for a wonderful time, I wish you a great life.’

While filming a reality series called Bridezilla in an upmarket Californian bridal store, I mentioned to the manager I was in the middle of a divorce.

Before I knew it, she had me shoehorned into a bridal gown for ‘the inevitable’ (her words) second marriage. She even offered a discount on my next dress and the one after. Before you gasp… why not?

My childhood self would have wholeheartedly believed in marriage for life, but adulthood isn’t as simple. I’ve learnt we change as people as each decade goes by and if you don’t evolve together then it isn’t fair to stay with someone ‘just because’.

It was two years before I felt I was ready to commit to another relationship; step forward my (current) husband Pascal, now 63. What started as a holiday romance became the love of my life.

He is such a traditional guy and so different from other men I have loved. He has always told me he’d protect me and he has.

As for me, I’ve always kept house and cooked for him. We have quite traditional roles at home and, for us, it works.

I’m utterly amazed we have been married for 16 years (and I have no doubt he is too).

It is my longest relationship by a good decade. I have no intention of leaving Pascal — we’re very, very happy — but as that rather wise saying goes ‘God laughs when you make plans’.

So I don’t kid myself that ‘until death do us part’ is a realistic proposition for anyone — including myself.

The secret to our success? We don’t do Netflix binges or scroll online in each other’s company. We socialise together because I still enjoy his company. He has the kind of fizzy energy that lights up a room.

And as for sex, it’s always been central to our relationship.

Ultimately, though, I believe men will come and go but the most important relationship you’ll ever have is the one with yourself.

So if things aren’t working out, don’t cling on — walk away.

Cooly, calmly, with your dignity intact.