I got the hots for . . .

In the comments to yesterday's post, Avatar gave me an early birthday gift of a link to some photos. Either I am very transparent, or she is very perceptive, or more likely both, because those pictures were spot-on to my "type" - big boobs, generous butt, and woman's hips. Now, as my regular readers know, despite the emphasis around here on sex and masturbation, I've more than avoided disclosing my "type," I've flat out said I don't want to talk about it. The reason I give is that in doing so I am bound to turn certain people off at worst, and at best make it easier for others to categorize me. But it's really more complicated than that; my take on all this is your last post out of me before the weekend.

I guess I'm having a hard time wrapping my arms around the notion of tying anyone down to a physical "type" preference, when what we're really talking about is what turns people on. Yes, I like the big boobs and butts; I like the child-bearing hips; I like and easy smile and welcoming eyes. But what is the one thing, the one aspect of another person that turns me on the absolute most? For me that's a no-brainer: talent.

When someone is really, really good at something, I find myself attracted to her. Acting, singing, writing, sports, cooking, serving as both my foil and foundation - that gets my attention every time. If that is there, whether what she looks like will turn that into a sexual attraction is not limited to a narrow image of the "type" of woman I prefer. If that is there, I am genuinely open to a wide range of possibilities.

And there are other things that turn me on as well, not the least of which being paid attention to.

Why do I flirt with so many of my female readers? Because they're good bloggers and writers. That turns me on. And they flirt back. That turns me on even more. Now, I'm not some drooling maniac over here, ruining my keyboard every week; I think you know what I mean. I have a sense of propriety. I don't sexualize everything, and from time to time sex is the last thing on my mind. Seriously. I try to be aware of others' senses of propriety, and to honor them. I'm just using this as an example of the initial impulse.

Why, then, do I watch the dance shows on the Hispanic cable channel when Mona is out of the room? What's up with the whiplash I get walking down the street sometimes? I love my wife, with all my heart and as often as possible, but she doesn't look like the girl in the pictures Avatar sent me. But then neither do I look like the hockey players, or wiry, compact weathered guys she drools over. And we're both okay with that (I can say this because we talk and joke about it all the time).

I don't think this makes us hypocrites because it's all about context. If I didn't exist, and Mona had the ability to create, from her imagination, a guy to have sex with, he'd look a certain way - and odds are it wouldn't be like me. If she were to create, from her imagination, a guy to have and raise children with, he'd behave a certain way - and he probably wouldn't be exactly like me. If she were to create, from her imagination, a guy to talk and hang out with, that might not be me either. But what she was looking for in real life was all of those things in one person, as was I. I know I did pretty good job in finding her; either she feels the same way or she's a very good faker.

Don't think that I'm suggesting people have to "settle" on something less than the ideal - quite the contrary, I'm saying everyone should hold out for as much of your ideal as can be had in one person. But by the same token, having made that choice and commitment, I don't see any danger, harm, or insult, in thinking about, admiring, and even fantasizing about, what could be.

So, in my own, typical, convoluted way, what I'm saying is, yes, I have a physical "type" that turns me on, and Avatar pegged it, but it doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot. I am turned on by all manner of women; I fantasize about many and have sex with one. By the end of the day I'll have fantasized about a good handful of you out there. But if, by way of example, I'm daydreaming about Pisser holding a bag of donuts and wearing nothing but a come-hither look, or Dr. B. wearing a merry widow and correcting my spelling with a riding crop, it's about so much more than how they might look. It's about who they are, and who I am.

That's what turns me on.