I love "chemistry". That indefinable je ne sais quoi which presses my/our buttons. I'd far rather spend an evening with an otherwise "average-looking" partner who somehow trips those switches. It may be the conversation. It may be the smile. It may be the hairstyle or the profile or the view from the rear or the curl of a lip or the raising of an eyebrow or a dimple or a graceful hand movement (or any combination). I've often seen beneath the veneer and been proud to escort (and to fuck) someone that doesn't "light-up-the-room" at parties. Cuz, for some reason, they turn me on (and me them). BUT, I also fall for the looks on occasion. I've had sex with more than one person who I didn't really click with (and sometimes even found mentally repulsive - or at least not stimulating). Purely based on looks. Beautiful facial features, shapely body, or whatever. I knew a guy when I was younger who had no personality (could bore for England), was rude and absolutely misogynistic in his attitude, had poor personal hygiene and no dress sense. He also spent his weekly wage in the betting office each and every week within twelve hours of being paid. He was a total loser except he had a huge cock. I saw it on more than one occasion (cuz he was always flopping it out, at every available opportunity). he was a good 8 - 9 inches flaccid (I never saw it hard). He also had a reputation for being a selfish, lazy, lousy fuck. Yet the girls (not all of them - but enough of them) all but queued up to be stabbed by it. In a drunken honesty-session with one lass (an ordinarily lovely girl) I asked why the girls were so keen to have sex with him. She admitted that she'd had sex with him, but wouldn't repeat it and did have some regrets about it, but that - despite all the bad reports - she'd just HAD to find out for herself. I empathised as I'd slept with girls for nothing other than their big boobs etc., etc. What's worse is that, despite my maturity, I can't promise never to ever do it again. Please tell me I'm normal.