What is it that drives our curiosity about others? Do we imagine those people that we find sexy to be gifted with something that we lack? Do they know the answers to mysteries that we haven't figured out yet?

All Jungian archetypes aside, I'm eternally curious about how to properly describe sexy. Because it is so elusive, what makes people in the media believe that they have the right to define it?

Why are Americans so enamoured of an English accent?

Why do Latin men love blondes so much?

Why are Black men so entranced by white women?

Maybe all of these (generalized) attractions represent the unknown? What elusive characteristics to each of these groups have that the others do not?

I find myself completely smitten with English men. Yes, I recognize that many of them don't have great teeth, and alot of them are short. Yes, I see that there are "red necks" throughout Europe, and my own American bias filters out their rude, ignorant behavior everytime they open up their mouths to speak.

The electric response that my senses alight me with on the moment I hear an English accent is challenging to describe. I feel that I'm instantly transported to another life, where I was safe and the world was a known place. Things changed, but reason and civility were maintained as a high ideal. It's not the tea drinking, nor foppish mannerisms that return to lure me back into another world... it's the smells of damp tweed and wet soil, it is the feel of hot breath upon my wet and cold skin in the morning, and the rush of excitement of cold leather gloves on the small of my back helping me up onto a horse. There are echoes of a deep love that rise up within me, that I have no logical explanation for. I am passionately aroused by the smell of Earl Grey tea, and the sound of someone clearing their throat before they speak. The sound of boot heels on old stone floors makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and the gentle lilt of an English accent in someone saying my name makes my logical mind melt into my neck as emotion floods my senses with rich memories of a life I've never lived.

Is my heritage coming back to haunt me? Because I am a decendant of the English and the Scottish does that mean that my cells retained some memory of a life on the Isles where I was part of a different world? If so, why is this coming to bear now in such full color and life?

I wasn't raised with small dogs barking, yet their barks are comforting to me where they are irritating to others. I was raised in warm, dry climates.. yet the feel of wool on my skin, and thick socks across me feet seems more familiar than sandals and silks.

Somewhere in my memory there is a passion that sits dormant. It tickles my senses to the point of distraction, taunting me to come out and experience it in full force during this lifetime. My breath catches in my throat as my chest warms without my consent. My knees and hips soften, and my face relaxes as the memory of passion and perfection flood my conscious mind. Rich smells of cooking meat, and the sound of a man's voice calling across a field opens my heart and it sings. I am open.. like the lotus flower in the sun I relax my defenses and lay without restraint across the soft embrace of a fearless life filled with simple pleasures and the delight of an English world.