My mum is great. And I'm not alone in thinking so. My siblings are quite fond of her, too, and since I wrote about her extraordinary life in book form, I've had several hundred messages from complete strangers concurring.

She's remarkable, and I've never felt any shame in saying so - until last week, that is, when I was e-mailed a link to an article by the novelist William Sutcliffe, in which he quoted his own mum saying that there is “something unhealthy and unattractive about a man who is too close to his mother”, and stated that admitting to a close relationship to your mother is almost as bad as confessing to a predilection for pornography.

My initial reaction was that he must be right, not least because, in any given situation, I always seem to choose the uncoolest course of action - such as investing in a Sinclair ZX Spectrum when everyone else at school was buying Commodores, purchasing a pair of Hi-tec trainers when Puma was suddenly the thing, and preferring Morrissey's solo material to the Smiths. Besides, the shattered remains of my so-called love life would suggest that he has a point, and other very clever people have made similar arguments, with William Somerset Maugham once remarking that “few misfortunes can befall a boy which bring worse consequences than to have a really affectionate mother”.

But I have since read and enjoyed Whatever Makes You Happy, the William Sutcliffe novel that inspired the piece, and come to several realisations. First, Sutcliffe's exploration of the mother-son relationship in the book, in which he recounts the stories of three men in their early thirties who are paid surprise visits by their mothers, is sophisticated and complex - leading me to suspect that he was simplifying for effect in his article.

Secondly, judging from the number of sympathetic mother figures in his other novels, I would bet my entire back catalogue of Morrissey records on Sutcliffe actually being a good mummy's boy. And, thirdly, it is clearly the case that men who adore their mums are, in fact, a great catch.

There are so many reasons why this should be so that it's hard to know where to begin, but perhaps we should start by acknowledging that men who love their mothers, and can bring themselves to say so, are clearly capable of expressing emotion, and sources close to the female sex (ie, Psychologies magazine) are forever suggesting that this is a good thing.

Also, boys who love their mothers will probably want to have children - if you've enjoyed being parented, it is natural that you will want to be a parent, and, again, Psychologies is forever suggesting that this is an attractive trait. And then there's the fact that boys who love their mothers are more likely to be faithful: for if there is one thing that we learn from being mothered well, it is that the best thing any father can do for his children is to love their mother.

But don't just take my word for it. According to a study entitled Mama's Boy or Lady's Man?, which was presented at the annual meeting of the American Psychological Society in 2003, two researchers at Ferrum College, in Virginia, found that good husbands or boyfriends were often the product of good mothers. The researchers interviewed 33 young couples and discovered that, in general, men who said that they had mothers who “understood their needs” had mates who described them as “affectionate”. Also, men who had a strong love for their mothers had a tendency to date women who described them as not only their lover, but also as “their best friend”. Meanwhile, men who said they sought to “make their mothers proud” ranked high in terms of their ability to communicate with their female partner.

Which is not to suggest that some mother-son relationships are not dysfunctional. If you are 32 and still have to call Mummy up to remind you how many sugars you take in your tea, then you probably have a problem.

Daughters can and do sustain intense relationships with their mothers into adulthood, but boys, in my experience, need a period of estrangement - a point of rupture - before they arrive at a sustainable adult relationship with their mother.

Indeed, you don't need to look too deeply into any Italian or Indian family to find examples of mothers hampering their sons' ability to develop relationships with women. In Italy, where a man who is too close to his mother is known as a mammone - a mama's boy - there are even psychotherapists who specialise in the problems caused by overbearing mums.

But most of us manage to establish a healthy distance of our own accord, and it seems perverse to argue that if you have made a success of the biggest relationship in your life - as the Irish proverb goes, “a man loves his sweetheart the most; his wife the best, but his mother the longest” - that it should be off-putting. It's like refusing an investment opportunity from Warren Buffet.

And if you're still not convinced, let us compare men who are close to their mothers with those who are not. Among the former we have George Washington (“I attribute all my success in life to the moral, intellectual and physical education I received from my mother”), Mark Twain (“My mother had a slender, small body, but a large heart - a heart so large that everybody's grief and everybody's joy found welcome in it, and hospitable accommodation”) and Stevie Wonder (“Mama was my greatest teacher, a teacher of compassion, love and fearlessness”). Among the latter we have Michel Houellebecq and Tony Soprano. Case closed.

sathnam@thetimes.co.uk

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