Can men and women be friends?

The truth is that male / female relationship can often be characterised by at least some attraction, but is this attraction something to be feared?

Obviously, most of us good, solid, one partner, by the book, twice a week, mostly missionary folk are not looking for an affair, but, let’s face it, isn’t life more fun with a little static in the air? What’s a little frission between friends? If a bloke has a lady friend, why throw a wet blanket over the relationship altogether? Are men expected to cut off contact with certain companions on the basis of flawless skin or a shapely figure? Would we rather a bland, tasteless porridge or a zesty, flavorsome vegetable stew?

In searching for answers to these substantial questions, I turned to Britain’s great literary heritage for guidance. I find there is much inspiration to be found in the writings of Bronte, Austen and, of course, the Bald Bard himself. And most specifically H. E. Bates. For those who aren’t familiar with him, this titan wrote some wonderful books based around the rollicking adventures of the Larkin family. Most recently they were made into the television series, “The Darling Buds of May” – the show that starred a then unknown Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Bates penned some lovely tales based around Pop and Ma Larkin. Pop is a lively spark plug of a bloke and Ma is a big-hearted paragon of womanhood. They are a great match and spend much of their time eating, drinking, flirting (not just with each other) and having “lie downs”. They are not exactly forerunners to the Pete Doherty School of Hedonism but there is much to be said for their style of living. The Larkin world is brimming with life, love, food, sex, booze, beauty, nature, friends and family. And not a pursed lip / crossed leg / P.C. utterance in sight.

Of course, I am perceptive enough to realise that our contemporary world does not bear much of a resemblance to 1950s rural England. And I am realistic enough to know that my girlfriend will not ask “So did you kiss her?” in the same blithe way that Ma enquires of Pop when he is telling her about an attractive lady. I remain hopeful, though, that there is something to be learnt from these rural bon vivants about the more joyous aspects of life. There are enough do’s and don’ts in my world already without my personal life being censored like a swear word on free-to-air television.

Nevertheless, certain boundaries must be respected. Though many women may not believe it there are men who can recognise an attractive girl without immediately having to make a play for her. There is a line drawn in the sawdust but many of my kind can actually walk this line. Honestly.

Particularly if we have set up shop with a special somebody. If your House of Love is built on strong stilts then you are not too likely to bring the whole thing crashing down for three minutes of glory. There have been a number of our brethren who, admittedly, who have not lived by the aforementioned creed? Okay, there are many who have flat out ignored it. But not all of us have these pyromaniacal tendencies and are so quick to start playing with the matchbox.

We are also products of our emotional timelines. In our turbulent, single days an attractive blip on the life’s radar screen might trigger a Hunt For Red October/ Cold War style response, with all troops on deck and torpedoes loaded. However, in stable periods of domestic d?tente a more measured approach might be the order of the day. Where the trigger finger is not so quickly poised over the little red button that unleashes the heavy weaponry.

I want to live in a world where I don’t hesitate to step over a friend’s threshold unless the heady scent of testosterone hits my nostrils. A world where a dozen pints with the lads is not the only acceptable way to mark my dance card. A world where my social network is not limited to Rob, John, Steve and Buzz (not that I don’t love you guys). If I wanted that kind of life, I would never have left the warm, matronly bosom of my all boys private school. Or, I would have at least become a teacher there. I would still be enjoying the shower hi-jinks and playing Girls Germs tag at lunchtime.

I don’t like arguing with my girlfriend. It’s tiring. And she is so lovely that it’s very hard to summon the self-righteous rage I need to do battle. But some things are worth putting down your beer and fighting for. Liberty. Equality. Fraternity. And Lady Friends.

I think it is worth noting that these principles work both ways. So, when my girlfriend tells me that she is meeting her seven-foot Colombian salsa teacher who bears a striking resemblance to Olivier Martinez, I must offer her a warm smile, kiss her sweetly on the mouth and wish her and Juan a lovely evening. Anything less would be hypocrisy. And no one likes a hypocrite.