The theory of being able to do better.

I went out for coffee last night with The Human Dynamo and KCG, and during the course of our conversation I said to them, "So, what did you think of Mr Singular?"

There was a telling pause. "How honest do you want us to be?" asked HD.

"Brutally", I replied. "I doubt you'll tell me anything that I haven't thought myself."

"I don't think he's a very nice person, and I think you can do a lot better."

KCG was actually a little scandalised at HD's blunt assessment - HD normally has nothing but kind words to say about any and every person he meets. HD went on to mention that, following one disasterous conversation on the verandah during our camping trip, his boyfriend now refuses to be in Mr Singular's company by himself. Mr Singular was apparently uncommunicative or, when he did decide to communicate, he was rude.

Mr Singular is abrasive at the best of times, but never moreso than with people he considers beneath him: shop assistants, waiters, and, it seems, the friends of the guy he's kinda sorta dating. I must admit that while HDs criticism is nothing I've not considered myself, hearing it from someone else sets back any resurgent interest I had in Mr Singular. When HD and I were alone, he went even further, telling me he thought that Mr Singular was toxic and he didn't want me to get in too deep and get damaged myself.

All well and good, I responded, but what's the alternative? Men aren't exactly breaking down my door. He and KCG both opined that it's better to be alone than to be with the wrong person. Which coming from two men in fulfilling, monogamous, loving relationships is a little like a couple of stockbrokers telling you that money isn't everything and it can't buy you happiness while idly polishing their Porsches.

They both criticised me further when I told them about the guy I went out with last Monday. We'd chatted briefly a couple of months ago on Manhunt but found that our objectives were incompatible - he wanted an anonymous fuck, I wanted a more meaningful relationship. But we'd both shown ourselves to be considerate and understanding of the other's position, and agreed in theory to let each other know if we changed our minds.

By last weekend he was tiring a little of NSA, and I was getting frustrated by a lack of interest from anyone decent, so I suggested meeting up. After some discussion, we agreed to go out for a drink, with no sex on the agenda, just to see what we thought of each other.

He turned out to be a good looking 36 year old South American with a sexy Spanish accent. We had our drinks at an upmarket pub, then walked up the street to one of my favourite restaurants, both of which met with his approval. By then it was getting late and he had a long drive home before work in the morning, so I walked him back to his car, gave me a little kiss good night, and we parted company. We're now planning to go out again this coming Monday.

The reason why HD and KCG criticised me is because I mentioned that I don't see much future in this relationship, primarily because the South American is in a different league. He's go-getting, good looking, exotic and sexy. He's had several long term relationships, which he seems to have acquired with less fuss than getting TiVo. "Hmmm... a long term relationship might be nice... okay... eeny, meeny, miney, mo... I'll take that one." He's from the league in which one chooses a boyfriend from the available pool when one decides that one is ready for it. I'm from the league in which one searches desperately for a man and then thanks his lucky stars when one consents to spend time with him. I'm the man chasing oasis mirages in the desert; he's the man browsing for just the right brand of gin at Liquorland. There's a gulf between us - he's a Successful Gay, and I'm not.

Perhaps because they're both in higher leagues than me, KCG and HD didn't seem to get the distinction. In fact both of them claimed not to believe in leagues at all. In the most breathtaking piece of wrongheaded thinking of the evening, one of them actually suggested that maybe when I contact a guy, and he looks at my profile but doesn't respond, it's because he's intimidated. Not, as one might guess, because he looks at me and thinks, Eww, how would you even think you had a chance with me, loser? No, it's because he sees me and is crippled with self-doubt because I'm so awesome.

I was actually a little insulted that they'd try to feed me such an implausible line.