We left the restaurant soon after that, all quite tipsy. On the way home, we had a heated debate about whether the waiter had been checking out Sam, Rick, or me. I insisted that a man that good-looking and well dressed couldn't possibly be heterosexual. Rick, on the other hand, insisted the waiter must be straight because he had never seen him out clubbing (apparently he knew every gay man in the world).

"I'd have definitely remembered that fabulous ass if I'd seen it before," said Rick.

"Well," replied Sam, "it's possible that he was checking all of us out. I mean, we are all three of us outrageously attractive. And anyway," he went on, rather sober now and with a sly, sidelong glance at Rick, "not everyone picks just one type and then sticks with it for life. Some of us can be attracted to boys and girls. Sometimes in the same night."

Boys and girls? The same night? My mind raced. So was Sam bi? Did my beloved Rick know this? Did he mind? I was completely flustered and confused. And, more to the point, I thought rather selfishly, if he does dig girls, is he attracted to me? But even if he was saying that he found me attractive, it was probably only in a superficial, aesthetic way rather than a sexual one, right? And even if he genuinely fancied me, it didn't matter. He was off limits. He was my best friend's boyfriend, and that made him as unattainable as you can get.

I was still musing over this dilemma (hypothetical, of course) when we reached Rick's flat, a lovely little apartment. Outside, the lights of the pier illuminated the horizon, voices giggled and shrieked, and Friday night was just beginning for many people. But I was tired and more than a little overwhelmed. I made my excuses and went to bed in Rick's spare room.