Turn-Ons

Someone recently asked me about my "turn-ons."

A crushing sense of being out of touch decended as I realized: I had no idea how to address the issue.

What, you mean like, things that I find arousing in people? Tricks played by the opposite sex that I fall for? Kinks? The question itself became a turn off, because I instantly thought of Hitler saying: "I really like it when prostitutes urinate on me." For the first time, that little factoid wasn't just interesting dinner conversation. It made me queezy.
By the way, how do we even know that? How is it that History preserves that kind of information? I know for a fact that Hitler was never on the Dating Game, and the Real World was still a few years away when they put his brain in cold storage next to Walt Disney's frozen head. (Assuming they were two separate people. You don't need a tinfoil hat to accept the strong possibility that the Final Solution entailed a well thought out second life as a "creative genius." Come to think of it, the day they thaw out Disney/Hitler's head, the four horsemen of the apocalypse will be in place. Walt Disney, Paris Hilton, Rosie O'Donnel, The Trump of Kenny Rogers summons you forth! The time of purification is at hand!)

Where was I?

Oh yeah. So there I was, a little queezy, and suddenly fearful, trying to wrap my head around the definition of a "turn-on." Once I got past the Hitler problem, my first attempt just made me feel shallow. Things I generally enjoy about the opposite sex: Flanks. Firm, taught, smooth flanks. In fact firm everything. Basically anyone over twenty who lacks an extensive exercise regime is out. Sadly, as waistlines fall and shirt hemlines rise, the fashion world seems dedicated to revealing love handles along with the butt cracks. It's a conspiracy to keep the full figured woman from making a comeback. "I'm big boned!" Oh yeah? I've never seen bones oozing over a belt like that. "Child bearing hips?" Is that what they call those things that bloop out from under your shirt? Never has a flat stomach been such a necessity: either you flout the trend or advertise that you don't know what crunches are. It all came crashing down into my own hips recently when I lifted up my shirt to show off my super sexy appendix scar, and my good friend Tom had the gaul to point out that I had a "muffin top." I was even wearing MAN pants. (Girl pants and man pants now have the same oppressive sexiness. I have to fold the waistline of my undergarments down to keep up.) I didn't want to believe him. But there it was, a little extra flesh protruding over the low slung waistline. Not one of the principle cast of Lost has anything resembling this. How can I go on? I am by no means overweight. But honestly, that muffin top is a turn off. Even more so when you see it on yourself.

Wait--I was supposed to be talking about turn ON's. You see how hard this is?

OK. Let's get past the initial, biochemically involuntary need for brick house hotness. There has to be more to it than that, right? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm guessing a turn-on should be something that excites and captivates beyond the insidious nether regions. So I start thinking: Literature--if you read, understand, and can intelligently talk about Great Books, that really gets my dander up. Housekeeping--yeah, keep a place clean and I'm halfway to heaven. Seriously, who doesn't get excited over a bathroom that is both springtime fresh, and winter white? What could be better? And Sushi--I love to watch a woman enjoy the world's greatest cuisine. Mostly because it usually means that I'm enjoying it with her. This might be the one place where the brick house standards can truly be left aside. I'll eat sushi with anyone. Or alone. Come to think of it, you can leave the hot girls at home, because that leaves more for me. I don't care how sexy you are, I don't want you horning in on the Dragon Roll. Just thinking about it makes me hungry. I mean, food and sex should never, I mean NEVER go together; but Sushi is a sensual experience.
Where did that idea come from, by the way? Food and Sex. It's difficult to think of a more disgusting combination. People used to talk about that "hot" scene in the otherwise forgettable "9 and 1/2 Weeks." The thought of two people taking food out of the fridge and making each other all sticky in the kitchen nauseated me. It's messy enough as it is. Just the image of someone putting any kind of syrup on any part of me almost makes me throw up a little in my mouth. And dairy products!? Don't even get me started.

I give up. I don't understand the turn-on proposition.

And I'm sure the person in question was sorry she asked.