Heart-to-hearts, embraces and the occasional tear – this is not an episode of Loose Women I describe, but a kind of love that often combines sentimentality with a hefty dose of testosterone. I speak of the “bromance”.

Traditionally, your average “lad” has been terrified that any sort of outward emotion towards his compadres will immediately mark him out as less masculine and, let’s face it, a tad gay. Luckily, bromance seems to have pushed emotions and male-on-male appreciation to an A-OK territory once more, and there doesn’t even need to be 17 cans of Stella as a catalyst.

It seems pretty apt then, that when the word “bromance” is typed into predictive text, it slyly changes to “bromine” – a drug supposedly used by the British army to secretly lace their soldiers’ tea in order to deflate their sexual appetite. Maybe this reflects the premise of the evolving friendship code – all the love without the sexy undertones.

This branded hetero-man-love could be seen as a relatively new phenomenon, filtering onto our screens in torrent of man-on-man bonding films, defined by American actors such as Seth Rogan and Paul Rudd, and British bromance bastions Simon Pegg and Nick Frost (who can currently be seen in their spangly new extraterrestrial feature, Paul). But male friendships have been subtly evolving with each generation.

Hark back, if you will, to the pyjama-clad comedy duo Morecambe and Wise. Not only did they share their careers – they shared a bed as well (well, in their sketches, anyway). As a child, this is something I recall being slightly confused by and I wondered whether something altogether saucier went on after they turned out the lights. The same thoughts occurred with Bert and Ernie, but maybe that was just me and my narrow child mind.

In fact, as far back as 300 BC, Aristotle defined a prototype of bromance, saying that, “It is those who desire the good of their friends for the friends’ sake that are most truly friends, because each loves the other for what he is, and not for any incidental quality”. Once he’d written this, he probably popped in a microwaveable pizza and had a Mario Cart marathon with his homeys.

Sadly, even bromances can turn sour. Number 10 may have seen the last of its late-night sleepovers, with Clegg and Cameron jumping on the bed in hot pants, giggling and hitting each other with pillows. Their short-lived friendship has hit a rocky patch over their opposing opinions concerning electoral reform, and in this case it’s going to take more than a chat over a bottle of cava to rectify it.

Luckily, as a member of the fairer sex, I’ve never felt the need to suppress my emotional friendship urges – and, not to fuel the sordid visions of male fantasy, but I’d think nothing of seeing a female pal parade around in her smalls (although in my case they’d be far more greying and baggy than your average horror film would have you believe).

Perhaps admissions of emotion are a positive thing in any friendship, and if the boys have finally cottoned onto the fact that they’re not going to be judged by indulging in their feelings, then that’s only a good thing.

Next step, boys: the joy of Bridget Jones – it’s only a matter of time.

More Nicola:

... on awards

... on morals