Sarcasm totally turns me on.
Glasses. And bathrobes. Not that I’m attracted to guys who wear bathrobes on the street, because that would be a little too weird, but at home I find them very sexy.
Oh God. Where do I start?
Pony tails? - Check
Stockings? - Check
Glasses? - Check
No ring on left-hand ring finger? - Check (and I’m married!)
Accent? - Check
Eastern European accent? - Schwing!
Ability to drive like a man and parallel park? - Yikes!
“Gets” Monty Python and Police Squad?? - faint…
Well gee, I had no idea :rolleyes:
Older men with receding hairlines. My fiance has a highish forehead and I can tell it’s going to recede when he gets older - yumyumyum.
Yeah, that’s what I like. Talk dirty to me, baby. 
Any sort of UK accent pretty much makes me juicy.
Sorry, there’s really no other way to say it.
Talk Limey to me!
Oh, does it now? Gee, like that’s not ooooooobvious.
:rolleyes: :rolleyes: :rolleyes: :rolleyes: :rolleyes: :rolleyes: :rolleyes:
did it work?
'Ello Naja. Loverly to see you post 'ere. 'Ows about you and me 'aving a quick encounta then? (Cue Benny Hill music…)
Those choker necklaces.
Buh. I turn into a puddle when one of those is around an attractive female’s neck.
I’m not going to go on more about it. I might sound more like a caveman if I do.
I’m not sure it extends to bad pseudo-accents 
So you had an Orange Crush? They can be quite refreshing…uummmm.
A woman who can play slide blues guitar, and can growl when she sings. I’ll be polishing her ankles like a cat, baby. That’s the “hello” part.
Ridiculously pale skin. Alabaster skin. Especially combined with dark hair.
Glasses are good, too. Especially funky frames.
A woman with a good singing voice can get me going.
Hmmm… Well, I was born in Scotland and could easily fake you out with my: Sean Connery “ackshent.” Would that dooo it for yoooooo?
What is this, a menage a trois? 
I should have added a qualifier: witty sarcasm turns me on. 
Heh. Well…um…hang around long enough…and…eyes shift back and forth nervously I’ll come up with something.
Well, I’m ready when you are. 
If I ever met a guy who could recite something from “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” at an appropriate moment, I’d probably jump him right there.
(If he could do it sarcastically I’d rip his zipper open with my teeth. )
But reciting something isn’t the same as sarcastic, darling.
Don’t make me dig up the book. Nobody wants that. Nobody.
Hey, a girl can dream.