Catherine Townsend: Sleeping Around

I realised my mistake on date three, when he confessed that he basically had no sex drive. "My attitude with sex is, whatever happens happens," he said. "I'm not really bothered either way, honey."

Despite him being emotionally supportive and a great conversationalist, by the time we'd had our hundredth conversation about his feelings I was feeling like the man in the relationship. All that was missing was the chest hair.

I could deal with the metrosexual men, who hogged my hair gel or gave me unwanted details about their body waxing. But this new breed of listless lad is something else. Utterly lacking in ambition or passion, they are commitment-phobic about their entire lives, not just women. K admitted that, in addition to never really craving career success, he has never felt a push to leave the nest - or even to do his own laundry.

A quick poll of my friends revealed that some had dated chronically indecisive guys. They are lazy, not hungry - and this inevitably spills out into the bedroom.

My girlfriend Victoria believes women have become victims of our own success by idolising the new age "sensitive man". "Men have become more communicative and in touch with their emotions, which is great," she says, "but, let's face it, being someone's mother is not sexy."

Secretly, most of my career-driven girlfriends want men with a bit of authority; we have to be so dominant in our everyday lives that some of us long to be a bit submissive in the bedroom. I realised the extent of the problem when I found myself getting seriously aroused watching Michael Douglas and Charlie Sheen in Wall Street. They may have committed a few felonies, but their unbridled ambition was a huge turn-on. K couldn't even make up his mind about what to have for dinner.

My girlfriend Mina confessed that her string of passive boyfriends drove her so crazy that she started to question her sexuality. "I dated several guys who were thirtysomething, living at home and floating along with no sense of direction. They kept talking about 'finding themselves', but I finally realised they were just slackers."

Determined to tackle K's lack of ardour head on, I pulled out all the sexual stops. But nothing changed. "Sex just isn't the be all and end all for me," he said. "Isn't it more important to you to have a guy who can talk to you all night?"

Hell no. Call me shallow, but if I want tea and sympathy, I'll call a friend. In the meantime, I'm looking for someone who views whether or not to rip my clothes off as the easiest decision he'll have to make.

c.townsend@independent.co.uk