I hazard a guess and say we’re all in the same boat. I can count on my fingers and toes the times it’s been suggested I’d make a great mate to a well-meaning straight friend’s gay mate.

Really? Me? “Oh yeah, John, he’s really cute and he wants to settle down.”

So I should be happy Mr Hot Stuff wants to take shore leave from other hotties and bunker down with Old Man Meyer?

“So, what do we have in common?” I quizzed blondy this afternoon over the workstation glass. “Just gayness?”

Another stilettoed friend hooked me up on a lunch date with — let’s call him Alex. Alex was sweet, gentle and smiled nervously into his noodle soup as we chatted.

I wondered what on earth our mutual friend had seen in common. Maybe we manscaped to the same length. Perhaps it was that perennial favourite — we both liked men. It was a stretch, I’ll admit.

Then we have another giddy gorgeous. “He’s gorgeous, really, you two should be together!” she squealed.

“Oh really? Let me guess, we’re both gay?” I teased her and fixed her hair.

You know, I’m happy my friends are looking out for me, but seriously, I am happy doing my own thing at the moment. I’m not closed to the idea, but if I do want to chew food with someone in front of me or inhale a wine, I wouldn’t mind starting in the same universe.

I laugh — it’s like we’re like little gay mules puppeteered by our girlfriends.

Today’s menu was flashed in front of me. Boyishly handsome, pecs, abs and a degree. Nothing I can’t handle.

I peered at blondy over my shoulder. “He’s cute, hon, send him over. If we can talk for longer than five minutes maybe it’s a sure thing.”

Hmmm, maybe that’s where I’m going wrong — talking.

I’ve got it, I know what we have in common…

info: Follow John on Twitter @daddydearest_

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