I hadn't had a drink in nearly ten years. I'd stopped drinking in the first place because of the hallucinations, because I assumed that they were caused by my constant consumption of alcohol. Unfortunately the hallucinations hadn't stopped. I couldn't even name all the psychiatrists I had employed to assist me. They all thought I was a different kind of crazy, because every single analysis was free of any sign that would lead to my hallucinating, to my seeing things and hearing voices, to the unknown aliens that paid me daily visits. "You seem perfectly normal," they all said. "Nothing strange, Captain," they told me. Then they would make some ridiculous joke about my being named Captain Jack, like a pirate in a very popular film series from tens of centuries ago, and call in the next patient.

But then, one day, he really showed himself. He'd been the subject of my hallucinations for years, and I'd been the only person convinced that he was real. The Doctor, he's called: an alien, who looks completely human, lives on a cloud, in a blue police box which is actually a time machine, and travels through time and space to save the universe. And the most attractive humanoid alien I have ever seen, at that - and that's saying something, considering all the aliens I've seen.

I hadn't had a drink in nearly ten years, but the minute he turned to me, winked, and offered me Scotch, I was sold.
He was a fantastic drinking partner if I ever had one. I always like the men who don't get mad when I hit on them. Even in the fifty-first century, Earth is so heteronormative, that everybody assumes that any attractive man they meet is only attracted to females, and the shock is clear once that assumption is shattered. Maybe it's because he's an alien, or maybe he knew about my leanings before, but this fellow didn't make that assumption.

His big blue police box is called a TARDIS, he told me - it stands for Time and Relative Dimension In Space - and it's bigger (much, much bigger) on the inside. He gave me half a tour, I think, but neither of us was paying much attention. At least, I certainly wasn't.

This morning I woke on the floor of an expansive corridor after the greatest shag of my life. Somehow I managed to make my hungover way back to the central control room to find the Doctor slaving over an enormous keyboard. He gave me some medicine for my headache and made eggs and toast for brunch. The Doctor says he's chosen me to be his next Companion, to travel with him in his big blue time machine. It seems I've stumbled into a great adventure. If only I could remember where I left my pants.