Heterosexual men are so difficult to have as friends.
There is always - always - the spectre of sexual involvement hanging over friendships with the opposite sex. While it is fun to flirt and the frisson of possibility can be most pleasurable, it can also become tiring and, in extreme cases, embarrassing, damaging and unsightly.
This is just one of the many reasons I so enjoy my time in the company of pooves. My friends are not of the high camp variety. Well, maybe one or two have their moments. But in general they tend to ride motorcycles, have beards and drink beer. They love good food, good ale and travelling. When they travel to see me I get to enjoy all the things I like about being with men - motorcycles, beards, beer, to name a few - without any sexual undercurrents. Well, none eddying in my direction anyway.
They spoil me rotten, bringing me fine wines, cooking me fine food, entertaining me with excellent conversation and bestowing all the hugs and kisses I could wish for. It's like an endless courtship, these tactile, attentive things that heterosexual men tend to stop doing once they've nobbed you a few times.
I have spent the past few days in the company of my pooves. I am feeling much improved for it.