What women want - 1

Let me tell you a secret: I have a Tobey Maguire-Keith Richards complex. Most women do. In a nutshell: good guys are boring and bad boys aren't worth the trouble. My boyfriend, John, falls somewhere in the middle – and that's why he's hotter than any guy I've ever met.

Back when John was just my guitar teacher, he kept his strong opinions and sexual energy under wraps. All I saw was his patient, nurturing side. He absorbed my nervousness and embarrassment like a sponge and gave back gentle encouragement and soft-spoken instructions.

He was obviously hot and talented, but his Tobey demeanour had me convinced that he was a shy loner. Not ideal, but enough to make me call him one day and ask him out for a beer.

Over six or seven dates, I discovered that this quiet, unassuming musician was harbouring a lot of Keith. He'd dated exceptionally gorgeous, interesting women and had a cast of engaging friends, including a midget drummer and a guy named Scum who'd lived in his laundry room in the late Nineties. John had performed at quite a few legendary clubs. In addition to being a sweetheart, it turned out, Johnny was, and still is, a bad-ass.

What makes this duality so sexy is that it allows him to play all the roles of an ideal boyfriend. He understands the line between spontaneity and unreliability, playfulness and childishness. He'll praise the finer points of the computer game Grand Theft Auto III and a Bill Evans piano solo in a single breath. Man, that turns me on. He can also work knots out of my long hair, whip up a delicious marinara sauce, point out when I'm being unreasonable and talk about emotions without acting like he's doing me a favour.

But the sexiest thing about John: he doesn't spread himself too thin, do things halfway or reveal his private self to just anyone. When he does decide to tackle a project or open up to someone, it's with high intensity and rare loyalty.

One morning I watched him decorate a birthday cake for his four-year-old nephew. As he began to frost a "#1" on Thomas the Tank Engine, I could tell that the rest of the world had faded away. When he's focused on me, I feel as if I'm getting 500% of his attention. He doesn't play games or hold back when he feels like grabbing me and carrying me to bed. His passion is directed carefully but expressed with abandon – it's so damn sexy I can't imagine ever getting enough.

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