I should be hiding under the bed around about now.

Men I am hopelessly, irrevocably and, in pretty much every case, embarrassingly attracted to.

Jimmy Carr,

Stephen Fry.

Craig Charles.

Alan Davies.

Jonathan Ross.

Yukihiro Hyde.

Rhys Thomas.

Will Self.

Llife’s confusing, isn’t it? Like, how to tell if the milks off, or is it the week for the recycling to be collected. How to tell if you’re awake or not, or, my main concern this week, working out the breed of bloke you fancy.
Sexual desire is a pernicious thing, far too dependent on no more than the angle of a smile or turn of phrase, and frequently completely independent of any of the other qualities you would generally desire in a lover. I have male friends who are absolutely wonderful; funny, cute, clever - everything you could possibly want in a boyfriend. So, thinking beyond the obvious (i.e. I’m a fool) why does the thought of sleeping with them make me shudder and want to hide under the bed?