There is nothing sexier than a bad boy, like Gambit or Willy Wonka as played by Gene Wilder. But sometimes you want a man who doesn’t believe all of the world’s problems can be solved by pointing to his crotch. Sometimes all of us just want a dude who will make us soup and give us a nice back massage without trying to cop a feel.

Ah yes, the Sensitive Dreamboat. This type of man is as rare as a unicorn and just as horny (GET IT?!). But the needs of his True Love always come first. The Sensitive Dreamboat still totally wants to do you, he just wants to do you when you want to be done. Until then, he is perfectly happy with writing poetry/music/grocery lists by candlelight after he just changed the oil in your car. The Sensitive Dreamboat is as manly as any manly man, so while he might cry after you first make love, he definitely does not believe that cheer leading is a sport.

The Sensitive Dreamboat has been around since the beginning of time (or when I hit puberty and I started dating novels). But the Sensitive Dreamboat has recently reached his pinnacle of emotioney power, as seen in the super indie film The Exploding Girl.

To some, The Exploding Girl might be a disappointment, as the title is a metaphor and not a reference to Kim Kardashian walking into a missile. (If that offends you, replace “Kim Kardashian” with “Paris Hilton,” “Dora the Explorer.” It’s fun!) But, in fact, the film is a tour de force as it introduces young scruffmuffin Al:

Mmmhmmm, mama like! Check out that sensitive scruff and that shirt you know he threw carelessly over his head, but yet it brings out his dewy eyes and therefore, his choice of said wrinkled shirt is as knowing as his love for Ivy (aka the “exploding” girl). Throughout the film he sleeps on her couch, plays her songs and speaks to her in a whisper, as if she is a horse that needs to be tamed. And really, every woman wants to be treated like an equine, to be brushed with the finest curry comb, to be fed the most delicious of oats and hay before being set free to run through a crisp green pasture—

–where was I? Oh yes, exploding!

Rather, an exploding of emotion, because after 90 minutes of repressed stares and great hair, Ivy takes the plunge with Al and they do the deed.

They. Hold. Hands.

Okay, that’s not really holding hands, it’s more of an unsure touching of outer skin layer. But that is what the Sensitive Dreamboat is about! Real, chivalrous love! And real chivalrous love means never having to fill out a restraining order. Al epitomizes the Sensitive Dreamboat Mantra. He is always there for Ivy, but gives her space. He listens to what she says, but suggests she listen to his favorite new band (perhaps the ultra-hip nu metal band Lesbian Bed Death?!) so they can share a pair of earphones like conjoined indie twins.Many say chivalry is dead, but Al shows that it isn’t dead, it’s just taking a nap! A drunken nap, possibly by the subway tracks, and no matter how loud the 7 Train is, chivalry is just going to sleep it out. But chivalry is alive, people! He just has serious liver damage.

Sure, these days you’re not going to see a dude pulling a stunt like Hildebrand in Burton’s “The Meeting on the Turret Stairs.”

I get it. Larry from Accounting is in no way going to worship the crook of his lady love’s elbow before fighting to the death for her honor. He just wants to bang the waitress at Ruby Tuesday’s. I understand! But looking at this painting and thinking thinking about Hildebrand lovingly caressing Hellelil’s wimple with his eyes really makes one start thinking that Larry should reevaluate his life. Or at least get a lice check.

Sensitive Dreamboat Hildebrand had it hard (or hard on–nevermind), but at least he got to touchy-touch his love more than the divine Ned from the short-lived TV series Pushing Daisies.

Look at this guy. Handsome. Great upper arm strength from pin rolling. Strong eyebrows. Now check this out:

You might be thinking what I’m thinking: “Is that chick Ned’s latest victim? Is he the Sandwich Bag Killer?!” Fear not, my friends (or rather, still fear, as the Sandwich Bag Killer remains at large). That’s just Ned’s True Love, Charlotte “Chuck” Charles. You see, due to some complications (re: plot), Ned and Chuck cannot touch, and so are resigned to be in a strictly emotional relationship and not your typical bang-bang adventure.

So sensitive to his lady love, Ned watches Chuck as she mopes about in her pretty dresses, making her pie and building her a bee garden on top of his pie shop. Everything Chuck does, whether it is cloyingly annoying or just annoying, is met with Ned smiling and loving her. Even someone with diabetes would set their sweet tooth on this charming Sensitive Dreamboat.

Really, there are so many Sensitive Dreamboats in film, music, art, books and television. They litter the art and entertainment world like scented Kleenex, promising to sooth your emotions with lemon fresh scent. In the 1920s there was the book The Midnight Bell by Patrick Hamilton, which focused on the story of sensitive barman Bob who only wants two things in life: to be a writer and to win the love of a dissolute prostitute. Infected with Dogooderness, Bob and his sensitive heart dedicate themselves to rehabilitating his lady love. Such devotion, such caring, such great vacation ideas! And how about Anthony Malone from Andrew Holleran’s Dancer from the Dance? Beautiful, sensitive, beautiful and beautifully sensitive, Anthony is on the search for Great Love and maybe a New York City apartment larger than a desk drawer.

Even anime, known more in the States for robots and being gross, has a fair share of Sensitive Dreamboats. Take Toboe from Wolf’s Rain. There is nothing more sensitive and dreamboat than a PUPPY who is a sensitive dreamboat! He’s also kind of a murderer, since he killed the old lady who raised him, but he feels REALLY emo about it. Forgiven!

Even historical figures are Sensitive Dreamboats, like Albert, Prince Consort.

Albert wrote poetry, painted, organized the Royal Staff (and hall closets). He was Queen Victoria’s go-to-guy, her rock of Gibraltar, her stoic German sausage! What?

And how could I forget John Keats? He made tuberculosis sexy! To see Keats in the realm of Sensitive Dreamboat, you need only to watch the film Bright Star, where he pillow-lips about with his True Love Fanny, kisses her once or twice, writes passionate letters about his love, and refuses to consummate their sexy time due to his knowledge of his impeding death and not wanting to ruin her. A true gentleman!

And then there is perhaps the most dreamy Sensitive Dreamboat of them all.  His name was Jeff Buckley. Just writing that name makes my ovaries want to Exploding Girl all over this keyboard. Too graphic? Too bad! Oh Jeff, with your soft lips and volume-tastic hair, how sensitive you were, expressing your feelings through song and sex face. All you wanted to do was lose yourself under a lilac moon, with your lady love dancing under a willow tree while you sang your passion in a five octave range. Too soon, this piece of fine Sensitive Dreamboat perfection left our world.

Yes, I am ending this on a sad note. But the Sensitive Dreamboats of the world would want it that way, so that they may enfold their ladies-to-be-loved in a sensual hug to dash away the darkness and warm their women with dreams. (Sensitive Dreamboats aren’t know for providing good body heat.). Until next month, wimps! I mean, Cultural Sensitives!

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Eileen once had a dream she went on tour with Lesbian Bed Death. Depeche Mode was there. It was awesome.