Since the only thing preventing me from being an INTJ is 35% F, I thought I'd contribute a little something here as this thread has inspired me, and I hope that you can glean some insight into the desires and proclivities of the mind of an INXJ.
The first time I was turned on was on June 12, 1981 when I found myself surprisingly aroused watching
Foxes on cable, or more specifically, watching Cherie Currie in
Foxes:
But she only whetted my appetite for sexy-80's-actress-addicted-to-drugs-and-alcohol; what really incited my inner stirrings was the 1983 classic
Flashdance and Jennifer Beals' stunning portrayal of blue-collar worker with a Dream to Dance:
[YOUTUBE="FeZ5R3C5bzs"]Notice the precision in her movements in this segment[/YOUTUBE]
It's not so much her facility of movement that gets my blood pumping into the other areas of my body and away from my brain; and it is not that she most likely engages the right hemisphere of her brain, which tells me I would surely be the dominant one in my fantasy world if we were to meet each other, in the classic chase cliche where she is pursuer; and it is not even the foresight she had in knowing that living in a warehouse apartment in the grungy city would become en vogue; no, it is more the knowledge I have that without these things, she would be just another ordinary model-welder at the city steel mill with a hidden talent for bodily movement; and knowing that she could work like a dog all day in 12-hour shifts, with her body leaking bodily fluids, like sweat, out of her tight pores while still holding a firm grip on the flaming torch, allows me to make the inference that she would also be able to fix things I have no interest in debasing myself to touch whatsoever, like increasing the strength of the chasm between the pipes beneath my sinks in those times where liquid finds a way through, or assessing the integrity of the myriad cables that connect me to my necessary cyber world so that I may continue to construct the World's longest run-on sentences; which further inspires a feeling within that I usually only get when I have defeated 25 opponents and solved 10 riddles, or spied a magificent specimin of femme in a window only to realize I was viewing myself.
I realize I digress in my exuberance in discussing matters which sadly will never come to pass in the long run. So although my days are strictly regimented on military time, I have decided to forego some quality gaming and sleeping so that I might construct the perfect woman on my own, because to think that a woman might exist that would be on par with me would mean that I would have had to create her myself, being of superior intellect to every other creature on our known planet, and since I have no conscious knowledge of being God, and having created said Woman, I have decided it is more advantageous to become God and provide for myself that which will never be without my divine hand and mind intervening in the dynamics of the logical physical flow of the universe. Using my philosophical model of Occam's Razor and keeping things simple yet elegant, I have deemed this ultimate woman to encompass the triad of my 80's film desires (forgive my filmography faux pas, I am allowing myself some poetic license since, although this was technically released in 1979, I witnessed it in the 80's) two of the aforementioned artists, combined with this final character who exhibits all the structure I would deem desirable in a mate for the quintessential coalesced female identity. A video dipiction will have to suffice as there are no applicable photographs of my heroine. Notice her facility with regimentation and logic in the face of mere mortals.
[YOUTUBE="2nJeiJNpVSM"]Miss Togar you are my tiger. RAWR.[/YOUTUBE]
In a laboratory below my stale-smelling quarters I have created the perfect setting that even the makers of IronMan would admire. I am designer, inventor, and creator of this new woman I call Togar3, my union, my Solace; it is only a matter of time before she is instilled with the breath of life and becomes my lifelong mate. Because it is not so much that I desire a woman who is my mirror image, it is that I do not desire a woman who is not. And in that I can relax basking in the knowledge only I am privy to that I am indeed unto myself and all things simultaneously, much like the gravity of an infinite number of spirals intertwining spatially with vortexes in a giant black hole of suck.