The lovely Simon has finally separated from his frankly rubbish partner Michael. After two years of no sex, with Michael regularly leaving Simon on a Saturday to "go into SoHo and read the papers" - returning hours later, smelling of sauna.
Well, all that has now changed and Simon is making the most of his sudden mid-life crisis. He is, in fact, worse than me. And considerably prettier.
Simon has the best arms I know, and regularly wears a t-shirt which displays them to best effect. It sets off a guaranteed testosterone tsunami in a gay club, and has guaranteed hilarious consequences.
Simon is now seeing five different men (three in the last weekend), has started taking lots of jagged little pills, and in a move that made me strangely jealous, took a day off work last week purely to have drugged-up sex with a frenchman (which appears to have climaxed in a quick round of meat puppet theatre).
The reason I tell you this is not purely to make someone else feel inadequate, but to joyously give you Simon's quote of the week:
"I wish I hadn't gone to IKEA before taking K. I spent hours hallucinating soft furnishings."