Esquire magazine has a regular feature called “Women We Love” — generally a lass from one of the major entertainment fields who combines shockingly good physical condition with a certain wit or intelligence or artistic talent of some sort.

Or not.

She might just have really nice… well… you know.

In fact, I think it’s really less a “love” thing than a “lust” thing, but “Women We Lust After” just sounds more Maxim, doesn’t it?

So there you go.

I’m not the kind of girl who will ever appear in “Women We Love”, mostly because I would not look so appealing sprawled across a studio in a white men’s shirt (barely buttoned, of course), or moderately obscured by gauzy blowing curtains backlit by the sun.

In fact, you might wish to tell me to “Button that up! Don’t you own a bra? And where are your pants?” or “Stop standing by the window, you’ll get a chill, especially since you are COMPLETELY NAKED.”

At least my father would…and since he reads Esquire faithfully, there’s little chance he’d miss the photo shoot where they sat me under a tree holding a baguette, wrapped in a checkered tablecloth, next to a picnic basket full of vaguely Freudian items.

But I digress.

Now, lists like these are not strictly the domain of Esquire or Maxim or GQ. No, you’ll find their counterparts in Cosmopolitan and Glamour: “Men With Their Shirts Off” or “Men Out of Uniform” (or something equally cringeworthy.)

I’ve glanced at a few, I admit it.

But despite the appeal of a somewhat idealized (Oh, who am I kidding? You could get a paper cut off those abs…) male form, I never really feel any sort of connection to the “mancake”.

No, the Men I Love are something a little different. A little… off the beaten path.

A little older than me, sometimes, but it’s not like I’m planning to MARRY them, I just love them from afar like a teenage girl with a Shaun Cassidy poster in her locker. Which was before my time, granted (I had Ralph Lauren models up, I was shameless then…) but who would miss the chance not to show up in Shaun Cassidy Google searches?

Certainly not me. Shaun Cassidy. Shaun Cassidy. Hello, if it’s you, Shaun… call me!

I’m digressing again, aren’t I? Back at it.

Here are a few of my choice beloveds:

Ira Glass: Yep. I love me some Ira. He’s the host of This American Life on Public Radio International, an author (I own at least one non-fiction collection he edited), and a generally bright guy. What do I love? I love that he tells stories that make him chuckle mid-sentence. I love his wit. I love his awareness of the world around him.

This is the guy I would have crushed madly on when I did debate team in high school. Mind you, back then, I wouldn’t have approached him because I wouldn’t have believed I had anything to offer. And I love that now I know I do.

One more thing… the glasses. Oy.

Paul Newman: Now, I have to say, young Paul Newman remains about the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Really. But it’s Older Paul Newman that I love. I love the endurance of his marriage to Joanne Woodward in a fickle town — he once condemned adultery with the remark, “Why go out for a hamburger when you have steak at home?”

I love that his charity benefits a wide swath of deserving people, from breast cancer patients in Wales to seriously ill kids across the world. I love that his salad dressings are ALWAYS good. I love that he quit acting last year (at 82) and will still be directing a play this year (at 83.)

I love that he only got more sexy as he got older, which just goes to show that conviction and integrity age well.

Marc Broussard: Heard of him? You should have. But I won’t blame you if you haven’t. Instead of blathering on and on, though, I’ll let him do his thing for you:

Blue-eyed soul with a Louisiana flair. Heeeeello, could you BE more up my alley?. He’s only 26 this year, but the maturity of his sound is years past that.

Okay, one more with my favourite, Sara Bareilles:

Brian Williams: Major, major crush on his anchormanness. Seriously, now. This is a man who brings gravity where gravity is needed — he rode out Hurricane Katrina in the Superdome as the only network anchor on the scene — and can still hang with Jon Stewart and the kids at SNL. See?

He does look fabulous in a tie.

And that’s really what counts, isn’t it?

Calvin Trillin: One of my favourite authors by far, and a mainstay at the New Yorker, which is a magazine I grew up flipping through after my dad and mom were done reading the cartoons out loud to one another.

He has a firm grasp of both wit and (non-maudlin emotion) in his work — a balance few strike without shafting one side or the other — and a love for his family that is transparent in each word he commits to the page about their lives.

I’ll let him tell you about himself.

And about his wife:

I love it.

So tell me about men or women you love… and why?