When it comes to attraction men are a mystery — no two are alike

A timeless, broad appeal

So today’s males I asked, “What female turn-on do you specially dig?”

Jazz pianist: “Baby, they haven’t made the chick yet that I don’t dig. Any type, any sort. So if you’d like to come over and discuss it.”

Baseball player: “Little ones, 5-foot-2. Me, I’m a leg man. Good-looking 105-pounders who carry that on good-looking legs are a sign she’s healthy. Nice butt’s important, too.”

Actor: “Simple. I see a woman. I ask myself, automatically, ‘Boy, wouldn’t you like to go to bed with that?’ If the answer’s negative, then she ain’t got it.”

Muhammad Ali/Cassius Clay once told me: “The Quran says lower your eyes if confronted with lust. I’ve had the other. I now am drawn to one without lipstick or rouge. Cleanliness, righteousness, her God-given brown complexion is attractive — not artificial. Purity not perfume. I prefer her to exude the radiance of soul.”

I once started this subject because of what Richard Burton — a magna cum laude on sex (and repeat Elizabeth Taylor husband) — told me: “I cannot abide a large nose and large lips. Romancing that is torture. One unnamed actress had a Grand Canyon mouth. Kissing her was like diving into outer space. Enormous nostrils felt like driving into a two-car garage.”

Cosmetics manufacturer: “I don’t like ash blonds with double rows of false black lashes. Or cosmetics that are too red, greasy, too much eyebrow. I like not overly made-up women. I like mascara, pencil that enhances the eye not substitutes for it. And hair worn off the face so they can display their features — and my products.”

A poet: “I want dirty-looking. Like just found in an alley. Dirt’s attractive. Triggers animal emotion. I want messy long hair, monster thighs and a bust like Man Mountain Dean. I hate shaven arms or legs. I hate cleansing and astringent lotions. Also bare feet. And I always hated girls who liked Rock Hudson.”

Singer: “Class. How she stands, sits, moves, assesses a situation so more’s behind the eyes than mascara. Like as comfortable with the first lady as she is with the cats in Harlem.”

Bullfighter El Cordobés, once Spain’s hot torero who back then pocketed millions of US dollars: “Fancy ladies. Big chests. Second importance — the face. The French keep their bodies well. Not skinny which I despise nor fat like my countrywomen. Being famous with lots of money doesn’t make me comfortable with high people. I want a woman who’ll clean the kitchen and cook for me.”

Sukarno, the late president of Indonesia: “The simple unspoiled love of a peasant’s daughter who massages me when I’m tired. Strong-minded’s fine in business — not bedrooms. I want to be praised, agreed with, adored. Who needs a woman in bed telling you what you did wrong that day.

“Best between 20 and 30. That’s like Africa, wild and untamed. The 30s? Like Asia. Untamed, hot-blooded, passionate. The 40s? America. Overly techniqued. At 50 they remind me of Europe — dilapidated, falling apart.”

Me: How about 60? Him: “Like Australia. Also like topless bathing suits. Just too far out of the way.” 

Seeking Eve

More on the new Ron Howard movie “Eden” I wrote about the other day. It’s the story of disillusioned outsiders — played by Jude Law, Ana de Armas, Vanessa Kirby, Daniel Brühl, Sydney Sweeney — who settle on a remote uninhabited land where their utopian dream becomes a nightmare.

Ron: “It’s a true story lived years ago. I’ve dreamt of making this movie 15 years. It’s a horror tale — a bizarre group of people like us in a setting we can relate to.” Right. And the VIPs seeing this wore shorts so short you could see what they had for dinner, sequinned sneakers and bras so full that you could see the plastic surgeon’s receipt.

Broadway broad: “A man can be meek as a lamb, brave as a tiger, courageous as a lion. But the minute he meets a hot girl he becomes a jackass.”

And not only in New York, kids, not only in New York.