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I’ve worked at Bath and Body Works. I’ve worked at Victoria’s Secret. I completed NYU’s Summer Publishing Institute a week ago today, a place where I was surrounded by 87 girls and four guys. I’d like to think I have some sort of insight on the female psyche.

I believe the perfect man, as women have come to establish him for themselves, does not exist.

Certainly, that would normally be highly pessimistic, but I have evidence. Chick flicks, music and books have all created the idea that women should go after the fixer-upper type, even though men will not change because you love us. Marry us if you want, but we won’t stop farting or drinking beers. I mean, I’m sorry, but we are what we are.

Then again, there’s the other end of the spectrum: the nice guy. How is it that the one guy who is pretty much willing to anything to keep a girl happy is consistently the one who never has a girlfriend? How many times have your girl friends told you, “Oh, no. I couldn’t date him–he’s just too nice.”

So then it appears that what girls want is the nice fixer-upper, which is completely antithetical since the nice guy wouldn’t need to be fixed.

A friend mentioned to me that guys do this too. I guess I could see that, but my problem, I’m convinced, is not that I’m looking for a type, but that I refuse to lower my standards. I have this thing where I’m only attracted to women who I love talking to–weird, right? After that, I think I prefer brunettes.

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