The X Factor.

katychemistry, Sex appeal, twitter6 Comments

cracker

I am having a sexual relationship with a man; we have never met and never spoken but every time I see his name in my inbox I get excited.
It is a bizarre thing and despite having no intention of actually having sex with my 2-D lover, nor, indeed, meeting him (for fear of pricking the bubble of chemistry we have, so to speak) I am enjoying getting aroused by the words he writes to me.  He is totally typing me on.
Naturally you would presume that our chemistry and sexual tension could only be born from endless emails and online exchanges consisting of smut-filled, hardcore descriptions of penetrative acts we would like to perform on one another involving various types of organic legumes and the like, however you’d be wrong. This man writes about breaking manifesto pledges at general elections and I get aroused. Who knew the state funding of political parties could be so sexy.
By his own admission, too, he is no Brad Pitt; he’s too old to be young and too young to be old. But, and this is where it gets complicated, he has something that is rare, it’s more important than looks, (although, to be fair, he’s not bad) money (always handy but not essential), even that old favourite, sense of humour (make me LOL and I’m yours forever) and quite evidently something that doesn’t need to be ‘real’ to be real – he has sex appeal.
I used to work with a man who was blessed with a similar such magic.  He wasn’t attractive or particularly charming, he was in his mid 50’s, slightly over-weight, a heavy smoker too, who always smelt of aniseed cigarettes, the type you can only buy on the Indonesian black market and will leave your left lung looking like a clubbed sea lion caught in an oil slick after 3 puffs. His English is broken and I could have sworn I once saw him wearing a pair of denim dungarees on his day off. Despite all this, and the fact that he was on his 5th marriage, I couldn’t get enough of him, because he had it too. He had sex appeal.
I wish I could illustrate my point with a type, a list of men who had a common link, good teeth for example or a penchant for red corduroy trousers, but sadly not. Sex appeal is most random in its choice of carriers. Some more examples if you will, Robbie Coltrane or more accurately Cracker, Colombo, Brain Ferry, Leonard Cohen, Michael Douglas c. Fatal Attraction, Gerald Depardieu, Hugh Edwards (Hey, people, it’s my list), Louis Theroux, the list is long, plentiful and you will notice, totally random.
Examples of those who don’t have it include Daniel Radcliffe, Donald Trump; any male member of the cast of The Only Way is Essex and John Terry (who I find so abhorrent it’s almost arousing, but that’s for another day).
Ed Milliband pips them all to the post however, a first class amoeba if I ever saw one. A man so utterly void of any sex appeal, so totally without any form of erotic persona that he makes Justin Bieber look like the fuck of the century.
How could a political party get it so wrong? He will never run this country because he has no sex appeal, simples. And, at the end of the day, isn’t that what it all comes down to? If I can’t imagine a leader between my legs how am I going to trust his policies on the NHS reform. Admit it, people, you voted for Boris because he looks like he’d go down on you quicker than Ken. Even if you didn’t realize it at the time.
Perhaps it comes with age, a broken nose, too much whiskey or a bad attitude. Perhaps you are born with it or it is something you can nurture and grow by writing blogs and tweets and emails to a girl you’ve never met before. Who knows? It can’t be bought, borrowed, stolen or found but it will run countries, win battles and break a million hearts. If you have it, use it carefully. 
A powerful gift indeed …
katyThe X Factor.

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