They're called "crushes" because they hurt. Especially if you drop one on your foot.

I unexpectedly bumped into one of my crush guys on Saturday, at a party thrown by a mutual friend.

He really is too good to be true. He's friendly, gentle and engaging, but also tall, lean, strong and good looking. In addition he shaves his head, leaving just a bit of stubble, which I always find irresistible - you know that a guy who chooses to shave his head isn't going to be the sort of man who fusses about silly affectations like tinted highlights or fauxhawks or bad bleached tips.

We got chatting, and this was the first time I've actually had an opportunity to talk to him for more than just a few exchanges. We talked about football and jazz, the environment and coffee culture, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. He certainly wasn't trying to disengage and find another conversation. When we moved off in search of food, we kept talking. I was sensitive to any sign that he might want to end our conversation and move on, but I didn't detect any.

My gaydar is possibly the worst in existence, but I did pick up a few interesting details:

• He's in his late 20s and doesn't have a girlfriend, despite his agreeable personality and extreme hunkiness.
• He lives alone, in an apartment in one of the city's gayest suburbs.
• He works in a traditionally female job.
• He dresses better than most men his age.

These are all good signs of gayitude, and he's the sort of guy who would be closeted if he was indeed gay, but all that doesn't prove anything. Human beings have an vast capacity for projection, so I'm well aware that I might only see what I want to see.

When he left the party I invited him to a gathering I was having the following night. He didn't show, and although that can be readily explained, it certainly doesn't suggest that he's as smitten with me as I am with him. So for the moment I can't do anything more than sigh, pine, and remember the way a few of his chest hairs peeped over the top of his T-shirt, just below the hollow of his throat, and imagine the thrill of exploring downwards from there.

I know, I know, all of this is a total non-event, but since it's been two weeks since I posted anything, I thought I should make an effort to say something, even if it is just recounting an episode of unrequited lust.