When I see a girl with bitten fingernails I find myself strangely aroused. Until I was in my 20's I 'gnawed claw' bad. I would chew them down as far as I could, exposed nerve-endings throbbing, enduring dagger stabs of pain if, God forbid, I ever had a splash of lemon juice land on one. Then I would compulsively pick and pick, trying to do even more damage.
I didn't want to hurt myself, (back then there was no such thing as Emo) rather, any hangy or excess piece of nail or cuticle was an annoying challange. My mind could not let go the fact that there might be a shred of self I could rip away. The pain was worth it for the releif and reward of accomplishing that little bit of 'house cleaning.'
It's really fucked up as I think of it now. I still pick if I'm stuck in traffic, fidgeting away like Chris Farley talking to Paul McCartney. Occasionally I will begin to chew a nail still. Not to bite it off, but simply to go back to the comfort. Sadly, though, just as when we play the game of, "I won't put it in; I just want to rub it on your clit," I anvariably end up going 'all the way.' Then I have nine nails and a snag-maker.
So... when I see a girl, especially a pretty one with nails bitten to the quick, I am turned on, for I know she is someone who will put physical needs and releif of urges ahead of other things. In my warped brain, she is likely a maniac in bed. Something stormy going on in her soul that cries for releif. It doesn't turn me on VISUALLY, mind you, it is my own projection of their personality.
Maybe when I look at a chicks nails I should ask, "Are those real of fake."