No Mandate for a Man-date?

Man-dates? I hear you cry – that is SO London!
Maybe you’re right, but can’t two grown up chaps outside the M25 chew the fat over a candlelit Beef Wellington? Can’t Ray meet Roger in Rhyll for Rioja? There’s no law against it.
But what exactly is a man-date? Well without the benefit of an OED definition, here’s my own:
An entirely platonic one-to-one social encounter between two men for no other reason than the enjoyment of each other’s company.
In other words, “Hey Kev, fancy catching the England game?” is not an invitation to a man-date. Clearly Kev would be left feeling confused.
But not just Kev I fear. It’s the ‘no other reason…’ bit that sounds male alarm bells across the nation. The problem is ‘British Bloke’ wants to know why he is exclusively meeting another. Give him a purpose like 6 Nations decider, stag planning or U2 gig and he’ll leap at the chance, but idly suggest popping out for some pasta or a weekly coffee bar catch up and suddenly it’s – Uh?
BB is essentially a pack animal that thrives on a strict ‘safety in numbers’ principle. Across the divide however, his more independent feline counterpart will happily rendezvous with another cat without so much as an eyebrow raised, bushy or manicured.
I generalise and hyperbolise, but you get the picture.
So in praise of the man-date, I hereby challenge all you ‘stuffed shirts’ out there to loosen your collars, drop your defences and buddy-up!

May bro-mance blossom – next week, Nan-dates.

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