My friend and I formed the PLF this week, not the Palestine Liberation Front, the Platonic Lesbian Front. Women should live together and only go out to see the boys, then come straight home afterwards.
"Wouldn't it be great if I could live with you and you lived with me?" I asked her. "We'd have a lovely house and no smelly stuff in it."
"You're right," she answered. "We'd never have to compromise on cinema and theatre tickets and we'd always know what the other one was thinking. There'd be nothing we'd have to go to boys for except sex. We could come home after it and not have to put up with farty beds."
The other people in the cafe, the sort of place old ladies hang out with nuns in, eyed us severely.
"That's the kind of look my guy gives me," my friend sighed. "He thinks that knickers are a luxury and I spend too much on them."
"Well, if you lived with me we'd both save on getting rid of Sky Sports. You'd get plenty of knickers for that."
We fantasised about a house where nothing ever got broken and that had no gadgets. She and I are both gadget-phobic. Our fellas love them. The remote control is a constant source of tension in my house. It's constantly being upgraded. She revealed her latest techno gripe: "I have to go on a course to use our new telly. It's got technology NASA used to transmit pictures on the shuttle! Before I met him I had a 1970s 24-inch that I never turned on."
I understood, having been given a brand new laptop, which doesn't have vital things like an accounts package that works. The end of year beckons and I have to do all my returns on my children's antiquated PC, sitting on a lime-green bean bag.
Yes, women-only houses do work if you get on as well as my friend and I. We put the theory to the men in our lives, and they agreed it would be simpler if the two of them moved in with each other, too.
"I think I'd love living with him," my partner said. "He likes gardening, too. I never get a chance to garden. You're always making me do housework. We could watch the football every night and have a vegetable patch," his eyes went all misty.
And they both love computer games where you log on with all the other sperm donors and blow the s**t out of each other virtually. "We'd be able to get rid of a hard day that way. Instead of you two making us talk," my partner said to me.
My friend's husband and my partner belong to the society that think talking is for girls. That we should get back to them every Tuesday with an emotional bullet-point list of discoveries we have made. My friend's husband calls them her discoveries, with a faint note of sarcasm.
"But then, when he has someone with what he calls 'mystery behaviour', he comes home bewildered and wants me to give him the reason. He's got no nuance radar!"
She also told me that he accepted he'd like living with my lad better, but that he was pretty sure, as she is, that the house would fall apart, in week two. The guys think the ESB gets paid magically. He also said the magic words to her: "I'd be lost without you."
I know that my guy is just the same.
The reason hetero men live with women is they love them and vice versa. In among all the misunderstandings and bad translations, there's a real feeling we can't do without each other.
I suppose that's what makes the next generation happen.