Broody.

'She remembered a man in the hotel foyer, very tall, he handled his baby like a newborn lamb: setting it down on its stomach to swim its way across the carpet. And Hazel had, briefly, wanted to be married to him instead.' 

God, I read that, and am a little broody now.
It doesn't help that I saw a man about my age caressing what probably is his young sister or cousin with such tenderness the other day.
If this were an alternate universe, I'd walk up to him and say, 'Sir, I love you'.

I like gentleness. And it, and love, is shown so vividly when you handle a baby.
I find it more appealing in men because, well, I'm heterosexual. I'm programmed to.

Quote from Anne Enright's short story, Yesterday's Weather.