I’m not really comparing mine and Rich’s break-up to such a disturbing scene, and it hasn’t been as horrible as all that; it’s just that as the relationship started its descent a few months back I kept thinking “haven’t I been here before?”

There’s always a period between realising to yourself it’s not working anymore and admitting the same to each other. This is the worst; at least after you’ve made it official you can move on.

It’s all about timings really. Should I end it this weekend? No, we’ve got that family ‘do’ – HIS family. Don’t want to leave him to face lots of painful questions alone; I’ll wait ‘til after; we’ll put on a brave front this weekend.

What about the weekend after? Getting close to his birthday – is it better to do it before or after? What’s less cruel? And so on…

Then, after you realise there is no right time and it’s gonna hurt you both comes the shallow realisation, among all the rough thoughts and emotions, that you’ll never get to have gay sex with this person again. Is it wrong to get a final screw in, something to remember them by, before you put your cards on the table?

Of course there’ll be the post-break-up sex, which is a whole different ball game, but you want to pay your respect to the gay sex life you’ve had together and mark its ending with a bang…

So, new chapter. Out with the Ex and in with the Sex (or something a little less cold-hearted).

We live in a culture that says we should value the intellectual above the physical and that giving someone’s looks or sexual performance equal or greater importance than, say, their ability to get from Point A to Point B without the aid of a SatNav is considered shallow. But why should this always be the case? I suspect if you’re reading this, then gay sex is among your Top 5 – maybe even your Top 3 – so picking a partner who’s going to sustain that over a long time is kind of important.

I’m not talking about rating gay sex above finding someone nice, because everybody has the potential to be decent and genuine, and all that’s really in the eye of the beholder anyway. No, I’m comparing sexual performance to other things that can be measured: IQ; income; profession; hair line; charitable donations…

If we stop and think for a minute, this whole ticking boxes thing when you’re in the dating market is a product of hetero selective breeding that dates back to our earliest ancestors: when men and women check each other out what they’re really doing is subconsciously selecting a mate that’s going to produce babies fit for the purpose, because some of the qualities their partner has are, of course, going to be passed down to their offspring.

So, historically, sexual performance really isn’t that important in a straight coupling, because the sex is just a means to an end. Whereas things like intelligence are important, because they will hopefully be passed onto the child, giving it an advantage.

Us gays, we don’t make babies and sex is no means to an end, it’s the end – full stop! We want something we can enjoy now, not something that might help future generations. Call it selfish, but if my friend chooses to base his relationship mainly on a great gay sex life, so what?

Fortunately, in these more enlightened times, things aren’t as straightforward – or as straight – as that any more and you’re never quite sure exactly which point you’re at in the cycle of love.

Take, for example, a gay, male friend of mine who has been living with the same flatmate for the last couple of years (also gay). To start with theirs was a co-existence of convenience, not having known each other before moving in together. More recently this flatmate started coming out on the town with my friend and their social lives suddenly became a lot more entwined.

Then last time I was out drinking with James he revealed in confidence to me that he has been sleeping with his flatmate for some time now and they’ve even moved into the one bedroom, while keeping up the pretense of using both. What that means is James and Alex are having sex, living together, sharing a bed, spending most of their time together, but James is worried about telling other people in case – what? – they see James and Alex as a couple? But why not label them as that if they are doing everything that defines a couple?

It is an interesting point and shows how murky the waters of gay relationships – or any relationship – can be. Once you get past the simplicity of pure sex, you can suddenly find yourself in a relationship without any warning and there are so many routes into one.

On the flip-side, if I think back, some of the biggest love affairs of my life were with guys I had a purely platonic relationship with – no sex; no drunken fumbling; not even a kiss – and one or two were even straight.

So, in these days when gays are everywhere and women are just as vocal as men, maybe it’s best not to think too much about these things, or try to conform to any conventional path and just enjoy the relationships we have, whatever form they take.

Although very different in some ways, like views and background, Rich and I are similar in so many other ways. Being the same star sign also gives us a lot of the same personality traits – I won’t bore you with all the details, but it does mean that I can read Rich like a giant alphabet and if we get into a full blow argument it can feel like I’m shouting into a mirror.

Being part carbon-copy of your boyfriend can have great benefits: you like to do some of the same things; you can predict what nice, little surprises will go down well with them; you don’t have to spend hours deciphering their behavior and words – you’ve got them in an instant; sex can be mutually fantastic and you’re both on the same page.

One of the biggest drawbacks is that, when you clash with each other, it can be a full, head-on collision with neither of you prepared to swerve. It’s also harder to keep things fresh and spontaneous because if you and your partner are similar then there’s an easy tendency to stick with what you know and like.

I do think this is a unique aspect to gay relationships, although I guess it is possible for a man and woman to reflect each other (usually after 40 years of hard marriage); not to the same extent though. I’m sure we’ve all pondered at one time or another, if we had a cloning machine (which I’m sure you can pick up cheap on eBay these days) what would it be like to create a replica of yourself and – you know – would you? After spending many hours and nights on the gay scene, I suspect that some guys already have.

So, am I the apron wearer out of the two of us? I’ve never seen it this way before, but there are a few other tell-tale signs: If we watch a weepy movie I’ll be the one trying to hid my moist eyes at the end so that Rich doesn’t notice and give me a ribbing; I’m the one that remembers special dates like our anniversary and birthdays and to send cards; and the day after Valentines Day I even found myself sulking at Rich but not telling him why after a sex non-starter the night before because he was too tired. I will also often look to explain things on an emotional level while Rich reaches for more logical conclusions.

I would never describe myself as macho, in the Action Man sense, nor would I say I was particularly in touch with my feminine side, hopefully lying somewhere about centre-masculine on the scale. But after a certain amount of time in a  gay relationship between two men that are similar in many ways is it inevitable that there will be some shift and one will end up wearing the marigolds?

I decided there’s only one way to settle it and that’s in the bedroom: last night I ripped off Rich’s clothes, threw him onto the bed, spared the kissing, took charge, fucked him intensely and the more he moaned with pleasure, the more macho my fucking became – we’ll see who wears the trousers! And after an amazing, raw, powerful, fast and sweaty screw I don’t care how much of a wife I become as long as I can always fuck Rich like that every now and again!

I’ve always known Rich has a thing for rugged, hairy, beefy guys and I can see a bit of a bear cub in the making in him, so I had always imagined that Rich would like to see more of that in me and whether subconsciously or not I have been attempting to bulk up and even go the odd day without shaving. But after getting my new boyish cut – which Rich says he much prefers – I must assume that he goes for the guy-next-door thing when it comes to his partner; maybe the muscle bear thing is too exotic for everyday life.

I have never really fallen into a particular category when it comes to the way I look, but I’d like to think I look quite trendy without being a label snob and have never dipped more than a toe into any look that’s more extreme than that. So maybe I am quite boy-next-door – or man-next-door, I should say – and if I think back I did have a bit of a cute haircut when I first met Rich, so maybe that was part of the appeal.

It’s interesting because I met a rather fun, lively, very tomboyish young girl at a party on Saturday night after Rich had cut my hair and she had a virtually identical crop cut! She explained that due to a bad and stressfull week at work she’d decided to cheer herself up by taking a pair of scissors to her long, blond locks. The problem is that her boyfriend hates it, says she looks like a boy and they haven’t had sex for a week. I complimented her on this new look and I thought she looked pretty sexy, but it’s another example of how the way we visualise ourselves can be so different from how our partner would like to.

It’s a very difficult habit to drop, especially when I’d previously been carefree and single for some time, enjoying many a night out touring the talent with mates. I also started my relationship with Rich unashamedly eyeing up guys when we were together, but from the beginning he said it was bad and maintained that he never noticed other guys in that way when he was with me, which made me determined to catch him out, constantly checking his line of sight.

My friend Linda is always telling me off for the same thing when I’m with her – she claims it’s desperate and reduces everything to sex, but I don’t take too much notice of her because she once shat in a glass for a stranger on her webcam.

I have tried to stop looking at passing guys, even when I’m on my own because it’s easier to go cold turkey, so you loose the habit, rather than be a part-time window shopper, but it’s impossible and feels like I’m training to be a monk. It also makes me feel like I’m back in the closet again and what was the point to my hard-won confidence to check out any guy I choose, if I’ve now got to repress that freedom?

Any thoughts on this?…