Because you’re looking for something specific in a man, but you don’t know how to articulate your needs, not even to yourself. You’re left stumbling around, half-blind, with your cunt acting like a Geiger counter for radioactive masculinity, drawing you to both the sublime and ridiculous in what is no doubt an unfortunate ratio.
But I’d argue that it’s not condescension that really does it for you. It’s the implication that a condescending man can see past your presentation to the profoundly flawed creature you are, and the realization that such a man is the only kind who will ever truly appreciate how fucking hard that creature has worked to be everything you are.