I’m in awe of their minds and stricken by their difference, their beauty, their soft, fabulous foreign bodies – though as objects of contemplation, not engagement. Maria doesn’t want to hear my question about whether that’s sexist or not. Tell Pablo some men don’t make passes at girls with…” “You don’t wear glasses…” “With vaginas. I was about to say vaginas.”We’re off, chortling and gasping. I recover first: “Pablo knows I drive on the other side of the road.” “You’ve probably noticed that that doesn’t stop him from getting jealous.” I tell Maria that Jim, Martin and Adam were seething too, for absolutely no reason Maria muses “There’s a reason.

We’re close in a way men and women aren’t supposed to be.” I scramble to head off the terms fag hag and hag fag: “We are meant to be this close You love me, and I love you.”And I do. I love most of my women friends with hopeless devotion and unfeigned heart Other men take work, effort, strategy. They may be tasty, tasty, very very tasty, but women are my .. platonic ideal. Tell him that we shop and cook and club, and even sleep together, but that it’s not sexual. I’ll explain what you’re doing wearing my boxers and what I’m doing in your tacky red frillies.” Maria is triumphant “You bought me those tacky red frillies.” ” I did?” I did Last birthday. “Gee, even my bad taste is impeccable.”The cushion again: “Explain our relationship, dummy.” I think about it And I’m flummoxed. “Maria, prompt me, because I’m not sure how it works.” She slips under an arm, snuggles into my chest, plays with the hairs “Like this.

Maria smacks me with a cushion: “You’ll have to ring him.” Why me? “Do I look like the Minister for Overseas Trade? You call him.” Whack. The cushion is definitely her weapon of choice: “Someone has to explain.” I chortle “Sure. It takes Maria and me a good 10 minutes to regain adult control.We’re spread over the sofa, wrapped around one another, heaving for breath. She’s sniggering, I’m sniggering, then we’re howling, bent double, tears streaming, incapable of coherent speech.Pablo glares, turns on his Cuban heel and leaves, slamming the door He believes the joke is on him when it’s on all of us Just as well, probably.