The Question Is – What Is The Sexiest Part Of A Man?

I was asked today what I thought was the sexiest part of a man.

Hmmmmm.

Now let’s see. I remember when I first started on-line dating in my 40s. I remember the first profile I ever wrote. I do fancy myself a bit of a writer so I knew the standard “I am this, that and the other thing” and I want you to be “that, this and the other thing” would never work. I wanted to be honest yet creative. Alas, that was several computers ago and I don’t have it anymore but I do remember the first line – The sexiest part of a man is his brain. Followed closely by his forearms.

Okay, so call me weird but yeah, I have a thing for forearms. Sleeves rolled up. Sinewy, muscled flesh suggesting strength and masculinity without being too obvious. Damn. Excuse me for a moment. I’m getting a little hot and bothered just thinking about it.

Okay. I’m back.

But what about the brain thing? Yes, I like a smart man and by that I mean a man who utilizes his intelligence wisely (hey, I made a funny) for any number of different things. Rocket science, Scrabble, painting the kitchen or playing guitar. I like a man who can tackle almost any challenge with a certain confidence, knowing that even if he doesn’t flourish he will give it a damn good go.

But I don’t think Sheldon Cooper (Big Bang) is sexy. Quite frankly none of those guys is sexy although I will say that Johnny Galecki looks pretty hot when he’s not portraying Leonard. So obviously I misspoke on that profile because if the sexiest part of a man is his brain wouldn’t I find Sheldon sexy? I guess that goes to my second statement that the guy also has to utilize his intelligence wisely. And diversely. Yes, that’s it. I’m not looking for a savant. I’m looking for a well-rounded smarty pants.

But what about physique? I don’t know many women who will argue with a fireman-calendar physique but I can state from personal experience it will never be enough. During my dating career I met a lot of flabby, jiggly, aging-before-their-time dudes who were my age or even younger. So I hooked up with a bi-athlete who was a year older than I and had a rockin’ body. That rockin’ body bought him exactly 6 months of my attention until I could stand no more. He had the IQ of a donut.

So is it success? Wealth? Status? Are those the big turn-ons? I once read that is It as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor one. How I would love to subscribe to and then live that concept. Alas, I cannot. When I left my husband I walked away from all of that and then some. It just wasn’t enough to keep me there.

Maybe it’s creativity? God knows I’ve loved me a few musicians in my time, an actor or 2 and even once a sculptor. So is that it? I crave the artistic type, the guys who live in the clouds and follow their muse no matter what the sacrifice? I’m going to say no only because I like having a roof over my head and food in the fridge. The “starving artist” term was coined for a reason.

I will also wager that emotional availability is paramount. And sadly there are a lot of men who do not excel in this department. But hey, I have girlfriends who are ridiculously available and as much as sometimes I wish they turned me on, they don’t. Love ’em. Don’t want to do ’em.

But today I figured it out. The sexiest part of a man came to me in a transcendent flash of illumination. Well, it was either that or my second glass of wine.

The sexiest part of a man is his sense of humour. I want to laugh – preferably out loud – at least once a day. I want to smile even more often. I want to be surprised and overtaken by laughs and smiles all the livelong day. I want to roll on the floor in fits of hysterics, cry with hilarity until I pee my pants and I want to giggle and chortle, chuckle and guffaw until every hilarious cow comes home.

That, to me, is sexy.

I will wager that a combination of all of the above is optimal. Intelligent, fit, creative and let’s not forget those forearms … yes, that is a sexy man. But that ability to make me laugh (and I don’t mean groaner jokes and borrowed one-liners), that ability to use his intellect to make me laugh … well … damn.

Sorry. You’re going to have to excuse me again.

About winesoakedramblings - The Blog of Vickie van Dyke

Writing is therapy. Wine is therapy. Writing while drinking wine is the best therapy. Reading while drinking can also be fun. Thanks for stopping by. ~Vickie
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