I love boys. I love their energy, their excitability. I love their toys. I love their boy bits. I love playing with both. Toned, defined, muscly bits of boy will forever be a source of aesthetic (and manual) appreciation. I even, upon occasion, love the mind of a boy. But all things Boy fail miserably when up against a Man. Homoerotic fantasies notwithstanding, in this instance a man is simply that breathtaking creature that makes a lesser man feel so much more the boy when in Man’s presence.

The other day I received the following text: “What are you up to tonight?” As I had come to the conclusion that some boys just aren’t good for us, or more truthfully, “Woohoo, contact means he’s most definitely into me, can no longer deny his feelings, and can’t wait to see me again,” I decided it was best to make the boy await my reply. Isn’t that what we were always told? – Making them wait makes them want us more. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. Although, I’ve always been quite partial to the more realistic “Absence makes the heart go wander.”

Colour me a striking shade of cynic.

And so I hopped on the District Line, fully prepared to (eventually) respond with the news that I had already left work and was well on my way to a fantastic party in Blackfriars. It’s always a wonderful thing when the excuse; that our lives are far too full and fabulous to make time for the boys we secretly want notsosecretly wanting us back, is true. The fabulousness of the party was guaranteed. It was in honour of a sparkling gay birthday boy, which all but promises tequila hangovers, tantrums and tiaras. I feel it necessary to let you in on a little secret. All the men in my life are gay. My closet is full to overflowing with drama queens, leather queens, gossip queens and ickle pocket princesses. (Skinny little bitter queens in the making.) This is hardly hyperbole - Every man in my London life is gay. Which might better help you understand my fixation on the Military Boy who isn’t for me.

Military Boy, (affiliating this one with no particular branch as a girl can’t possibly give away all her secrets,) replied with the following: “I was texting you to meet me after work. I’m in London, and on the train behind you… Get off.” Not the most gentle of persuasions, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t work. Hammersmith Station found me watching one train go by, then another, then another. Great, now the guy I’m supposed to not be able to care less about had become the source of the rise and fall of my anticipation and excitement.

Soon the “right” train pulled in with Military Boy’s face pushed up against the window. Don’t let his gleeful, excitable puppy-like, jumping all over me fool you, this boy was far from a spring chicken… and didn’t like to be reminded of that fact.

The conversation flowed. I was looking just the right side of sexy and he was sporting a suit, something these eyes had yet to behold. Suffice it to say we both passed that “Whatever you do, look stunning when you randomly bump into your crush” test. Although something tells me he felt he was looking a little TOO good. That was, until Gorgeous Man stepped into our car. This man was the physical embodiment of YUM. (And I just so happen to have a very deep and profound appreciation for all that which is yummy looking.) Military Boy and I were both awestruck at Gorgeous Man’s presence. I was still mouth agape when Military Boy leaned in and whispered, “He’s one of mine.” (In the Military. Not gay. Keep up.) He then realized just how taken I was with this stunning interloper. I could barely utter the word “Wow” when Military Boy gave me a tap and a “What are you like?!” Was this, jealousy I was witnessing? Could Military Boy possible be… and he was. Of course, this tall, sculpted, suited and booted, MUCH younger vision of loveliness was Military Boy… done better. Alas, the man who could have quite possibly fathered my future beautiful babies left us at Westminster.

I was left with a gibbering Military Boy, feebly attempting to joke off Gorgeous Guy’s perfection, while I sat there on the District Line watching as a Military Boy’s playful charm quickly faded when brought up to light against a real man.

It was my stop.

I guess it was the loss of confidence that lead to my loss of interest that night. Don’t get me wrong, Boys, military or otherwise, are indeed fun to play with. But I’ll take a strong, steady, stunning Man any day.