What’s my type? Seven inspired archetypes.
At its core, my degree of attraction to someone is informed by how they communicate, treat others, treat themselves, and navigate the abstractions of our world. The more forthcoming, even-keeled, and growth-minded someone is the greater their appeal. And I’m endlessly drawn to those who can live by a code while simultaneously refining it and embracing life’s undulations.
But within this macro framework exist certain types of men who do it to me to an unholy degree. Men who speak to my soul and femininity on a profoundly erotic level.
While there are too many to list, and while by including these seven I am not excluding the equally delectable others (including, I’d venture to guess, yours) here are a few of the inspired archetypes that turn me on beyond comprehension:
- The Lifelong Student: The man who apologizes for “rambling” after excitedly filling me in on the more granular notes of something about which he’s passionate. I find his enthusiastic intellect sexy and his regaling delightful.
- The Late-30s / Early-40s Husband: Fairly self-explanatory. A late-30s / early-40s family man who has arrived at that universal inflection point. There’s just something about being railed by a contemporary or near-contemporary who is actively navigating that fork in the road.
- The Deep Feeler: He who laughs uncontrollably as he collapses into my arms immediately post-orgasm. To witness such a primal catharsis is indicative of how comfortable I make him, and it speaks to me on an animal level that is equal parts nurturing and carnal.
- The Alpha Submissive: He exudes textbook masculinity and maintains positions of power, all while daydreaming of relinquishing control to a masterful feminine force. I admire his strength and make a game out of sweetly dismantling it in bed. To feel him breathe into my directives as I use him as an instrument for my pleasure – to see him physically respond, diamond hard – is an otherworldly kind of hot.
- The Double Agent: The suit with latent layers of uleveraged creativity. These parts of him mostly go unnoticed in his daily dynamics and are underappreciated by those in his less clandestine orbit. But I am his creative partner in crime, and I see and love it all.
- The Dreamy Melomaniac: Music is one of our shared love languages, so we spend hour upon hour exploring and enveloping. He sees me like clockwork but knows that he will eventually have to stop. He waxes preemptively wistful at the songs that will always make him think of me.
- The Accidental Humorist: Effortlessly hilarious, he can fathom neither how nor why I find his deadpan sharpness so devastatingly sexy. He makes me laugh in between orgasms and once made me spit out my espresso.