"A fine Bromance" featured in GQ magazine

Gone are the days when social stigma prevented men from publicly displaying feelings for one another. Now is the era of the new bromantic, where making time for that special buddy makes you more of a man than ever. Embrace it, cries Dan Rookwood I’m nervous. I’ve got a date.

I’ve planned my outfit: crisp white Hugo Boss shirt; knitted black Dunhill tie; skinny charcoal Levi jeans; box-fresh white Converse since you ask. The hair is looking sharp – bit too much American Crew product possibly – but definitely sharp. Should I go for the Terre d’Hermes? No, too much, it’s an opinion divider. A splash of Issey Miyake never fails. I wink in the mirror – “Grrr, still got it, tiger!” – and give myself the double-index-finger-point gun salute on the way out to gee myself up. “See you on the Opera House steps in 10” I text from the taxi.

I’m nervous. Y’see, things have been a bit difficult between us lately; the relationship has been strained. We stopped calling each other a while back, texts and Facebook messages became sporadic then awkward, tentative plans to meet up were repeatedly cancelled at the last minute for spurious reasons. There is unresolved hurt on both sides and it’s time to clear the air, talk it through face to face… Man to man.

That’s right, my date, Tim, is a bloke. It is a ‘man date’. Hey, what’s the matter? Too gay for you?

“You’re a homo!” At my school – and I am guessing at your school too – that (and its variants) was the ultimate insult. It wasn’t often leveled at me because I was good at both sport and at hitting people. But these days I tend to flash up brightly on everyone’s gaydar. As an early adopter of the metrosexual movement, plenty of people over the last few years have wondered if I am gay – both men and women. Fifteen years ago I would have been mortified by the question; now, I take it as a compliment. It means I am a snappy dresser, well groomed, with a cultured appreciation for the finer things in life.

Tim is of a similar bent, if you will. He’s very fashion forward. By which I mean, he dresses like a raving gaylord. He and I like good restaurants, fine wine. We have deep and meaningful conversations. Yes, we also like to listen to music and watch football and misbehave and get on the beers big time – but often he asks for a white wine spritzer. Hmm. We shop together, buy each other clothes and art and aftershave and books. We sign off text messages with a single “x”. I don’t know why, and nor do our girlfriends – we just do. When we meet and say goodbye, a handshake isn’t enough; we “bring it in for the real thing” with a gangster clinch – a hug by any other name. And “hey, big guy, have you been working out?”

In moments of situational and/or alcohol-induced highs, we have been known to bellow “I love you, man!” at each other in mutual backslapping appreciation of one another’s general greatness. We’re warm, tactile buddies who are not afraid to publicly display emotion and feeling. We’re bromantics.

But as I said, lately it’s all gone a bit weird… because girls got involved. Long story short, Tim’s ex and my girlfriend are – were – best friends. So when they split and Tim shacked up with a model 10 years younger than him (the cad!), there were split loyalties chez Rookwood for a while. Hence having a heart-to-heart over a couple of bottles of pinot to sort it out. Which we do. Hey, we’re blokes so it takes about two minutes. And then we get pissed just like ol’ times.

Simply defined, a ‘man date’ is two heterosexual men socialising without the crutch of business or sport. It is two guys meeting for the kind of outing a straight man might reasonably arrange with a woman. Dining together across a table is a man date; eating at a bar is not. Taking a walk in the park together is a man date; going for a jog is not. Going to see a film is a man date; but going to the cricket is not.

Women understand this instinctively, which is why there is no female equivalent to the awkward man date; straight women have long met for dinner or a film without calling their sexuality into question.

This kind of relationship between straight men isn’t new. Take The Fonz from Happy Days as an example. Richie, Potsie and Ralph were all infatuated with him. Three total goons seeking guidance. They wanted to be Fonzie. Let’s face it, who didn’t? He was cool, rode motorbikes, was the go-to tough guy and got all the girls. The fact that he was an unemployed mechanic who lived in a garage and spent most of his time hanging out with geeky teenage boys is irrelevant. The primeval urge to bond with and look up to men manifests itself in their complete devotion to this alpha male. It’s a simple fact that when not trying to get into some hot girl’s knickers, blokes will always prefer to hang out with other blokes. The only thing that has changed is that we are now comfortable enough to show it.

As men we are less afraid of being perceived as gay than we were as boys at school. We can have gay friends and they can hang out together with our straight friends and that’s cool. Pastel shirts, frothy flat whites and visits to art galleries are not a sexual signifier but a modern, metropolitan lifestyle choice. And it has become more acceptable for us to show some emotion. The fact that some guys now not only admit to same-sex “man crushes” without suffering a paralysing identity crisis but announce them amounts to a seismic cultural shift. And a healthy one.

In Europe, it has always been acceptable for male friends to engage in a bit of bonhomie that verges on the bon-homo – and the trend has spread. So much so that the latest edition of the Collins English Dictionary even contains the word bromance: “n. Informal. A close but nonsexual relationship between two men [a blend of bro(ther) + romance].” Every film from the ‘frat pack’ of Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell, the Wilson brothers and latterly Seth Rogen and Judd Apatow is based on this dynamic – as is Entourage.

Sociologists say the prevalence of these friendships can in part be explained by the delay in major life milestones. Fifty years ago, a man would graduate from university, get a job and get married all within a couple of months. But today us blokes are drifting, as opposed to jumping, into the traditional notion of a grown-up. We’re living a little. "The transition to adulthood is now taking about a decade longer than it used to,” says Prof Michael Kimmel, author of Guy Land: The Perilous World Where Boys Become Men.

Financial pressures help fuel bromances because they make living with mates a sensible option. In addition, men are getting married later. According to a study at Macquarie University, the average age at marriage for men in Australia in 2001 was 31, compared to 26 in 1981.

When I left university, I moved into an awesome share house in the city with my four best mates – all blokes – and for five glorious years we carried on in the same promiscuous vein that had sustained us for three debauched years as students. We played football for the same team every week, we sat up till the early hours engaged in noisily competitive PS2 marathons, we drank heavily and behaved atrociously and pieced the lost nights back together over a post-mortem breakfast the following day. We even went on hedonistic holidays together every summer. Man, those were halcyon days. By the end, we’d lived together so long we could have qualified as common-law partners – with the attendant tax benefits.

We’ve all gone our separate ways now that we’re living with girlfriends in houses that we own and don’t especially want to trash, and we prefer drinking cappuccinos rather than absinthe through our socks while being timed. We’re shit at keeping in touch – most blokes are – but when we do meet up for boys’ nights, they’re as epic as ever.

Close friendships are arguably more important these days than ever before, because of extended single-hood before marriage – and possibly after, thanks to the sky-high divorce rate. Hence friendship has become the prime style of relationship for an increasing number of people. "It's undoubtable that friendships are increasingly important in our lives, and arguably take on much of the responsibility that the support of a family may have given more of in the past,” says Relationships Australia CEO Anne Hollonds. "As our society becomes more self-focused and we separate from family, the importance that we place on our friends for similar emotional support increases.”

But… as with everything in life, some people take all this too far and ruin it for the rest of us. His name is Mike. Mike is a big bear of a man with a perma-tan and geometrically groomed beard. He is not gay, he is not European, but he’s taken tactile to a whole new level, and it’s camper than a row of pink tents. I don’t know him all that well but that doesn’t stop him enveloping me with a lingering bear hug whenever he says “hello”, “goodbye” or “I’m just making a cup of tea – do you want one?” And just recently he’s begun to embellish with a baffling ass tap and even a little kiss. What the…? In a word, Mike, no. In three words: no, no, no. Because that, my friend, is just Too Fucking Gay.

But still, nice shoes, dude.