You’re independent, self loathing and you probably want to be alone more than Don. When you were in middle school you wrote a paper about how important Independent Women by Destiny’s Child was for you. In high school, Kelly Clarkson was the only one who really “got” you. You have a soft spot in your heart for people on the wrong track. You want to change them. The only problem is, you need to change to. Because you’re a masochist to the point where the love of your life is Don Draper even though you’re very aware of what he’s capable of in a committed relationship. You want him forever and always—not just to grab your vagina really hard in a restaurant when nobody’s looking. Sorry but you’re gonna cry so much.
You’re looking for a goofball who will tell you that he loves you by buying you an apartment, or a puppy, or both. You’re a little bitter about everything. No one really noticed you until you were older because you were literally the weirdest looking one in middle school. You’re “one of the guys” but the guys never noticed you romantically. You always have something snarky to say about something and people enjoy having you around for the laughs. Sometimes your humor causes miscommunications in your relationships. Like, this one time a guy tried to kiss you and you told him you were too hungry and he never talked to you again. You want a man who will tell you he loves you with presents because you’re too awkward to actually talk about it.
All your life you imagined your wedding, your perfect marriage and your perfect children. You were very popular in middle school and high school for your looks, and need some negativity in your life to build your character. You live in constant fear that everyone hates you and nobody likes you no matter how many times your friends tell you nobody hates you. On some days, Pete admires you from afar but on some days treats you like you’re a fruit fly or cuddles with you while watching the news, and that’s exactly what you always wanted but never admitted to yourself.
You want a level-headed dreamer. Someone who thinks you are the best in the entire world but isn’t too smothering about it. A guy who was a total douchebag until he met you, because you were so perfect that you completely changed his way of living. You are the only one for him and you are his whole world but you can just sit there and do your own thing together and it doesn’t matter if you don’t even talk because you’re together and you’re best friends.
You like lollipops and hollywood parties maybe. you like to have someone on your arm to bring you to parties and shit. You’re incredibly hopeful but completely insecure. You like a thicker, teddy bear type because it makes you feel more confident when your significant other is less attractive than you. The security of a man with extra sliders and sideburns makes you feel safe.
Like women desperately seeking Roger, you love a goofy man. But you want a funny man who can also be serious. In a heated discussion about politics or the ending of The Sopranos, he will throw something at you and you’ll laugh about it later. When Cutler has a bloody shirt in the laundry you wash it and never think about it again. He buys you a dress at Bergdorf’s. You don’t touch each other unless you’re having sex and that’s the way both of you like it.
You feel empty without a man who reminds you how much he likes you with touch, admiration, and reassurance because you found out your high school boyfriend was cheating on you with your best friends throughout your entire relationship. While you want to be admired, you also want to be equals. You like to go on activity dates. Like rocking climbing, paintball, going to the movies and discussing the themes while you eat steak and stare into each other’s eyes. You cuddle for hours.
When you were in high school, you swooned over Seth Cohen and in college went on a quest to find him. He wasn’t there, and after nearly 9 years of a drought from a quirky, likeable but unlikeable to everyone else Jewish guy on TV, Michael Ginsberg walked into Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce and you were so happy that you didn’t really notice he pulled his crumbled resume out of a pair of dirty high-waters that clashed with his untucked shirt which clashed with his tie which clashed with his dark greasy hair. You find it endearing that he’s an alien virgin. You want to run off into the sunset together in a spaceship and never shower again.
You mostly just want to get high. In high school you were the cool sober kid who thought drugs and drinking were stupid, but you drove your friends around so they would be safe. Now you go around in life promoting kale as if you’re getting paid and smoking weed every day—but in a Seth Rogen way—not an annoying way.
You’ve had enough of men. You’ve been lied to, cheated on, and played with by the best of the players. You want a gentleman. A handsome, polite, caring man who is willing to fly all the way to Reno for six weeks with your newborn baby so you can get divorced and marry him. A man so kind he will diet with you, tell you you’re beautiful in your fat years and your angry years, and really mean it. He’ll even buy that haunted dream house you always wanted.