What do women want?
An unlicensed essay-turned-anthropological-study-turned-essay-again involving Aperol, body dysmorphia, and Sally Rooney
It always starts as a joke. A throwaway line framed as a four-word sentence whose answer is as mysterious as it is unsolvable:
“What do women want?”
Indeed, the first problem with this question is that it’s almost always asked in bad faith. A rhetorical performance, a shrugging faux-curiosity designed to absolve the asker of ever having to listen. It is asked in bold-type headlines and LooksMaxxing YouTube videos, on Reddit threads and awful first dates. When posed to the less-fairer sex, it is the Bermuda Triangle of heterosexual male understanding.
But most women will tell you: they are not unknowable—just ignored. Or talked over. Or aestheticised into glittering abstractions that shimmer conveniently away from the realm of wants and needs.
Historically, the answer to this question has been the following things:
A sitcom punchline recycling its way through all-male writer’s rooms across Burbank since the ‘80s: “No one really knows what women want!” (Cue laugh track.)
Quoted by men who’ve read exactly one line of Freud and decided that the good doctor’s conclusion is not a sexist oversimplification but an intellectual stance: “Easy. A penis.” (Cue lifelong inability to say ‘I’m sorry.’)
Declared by male podcast hosts with mics far larger than their
penisemotional intelligence: “It’s easy, bro—remember the 3Ds: don’t know, don’t care, didn’t ask.” (Cue eye roll.)Muttered by boyfriends in arguments they’re losing, hands thrown up in defeat like they’re innocent bystanders to the crime that is female complexity: “I give up! Honestly, I don’t even think you know what you want.” (Cue breakup.)
Of course, it isn’t that women don’t know what they want. It’s that they’re not allowed to want in a way that isn’t immediately flattened into cliché or contradiction or complaint, because female desire is acceptable only when it is muffled and predictable.
(And God forbid a woman want something—anything—loudly and unreasonably.)
WHAT MEN SAY WOMEN WANT
Let’s pause here, briefly, and consider the mythology that is the collective heterosexual male hallucination of “what women want,” tall tales disguised as meaningful answers shaped by porn, prestige television, Reddit threads, and particularly chilling one-liners from particularly chilling ex-girlfriends.
In an unacademic but deeply revealing anthropological study, I posed the question, “What do women want?” to six different men drinking pints in pub gardens and cans in parks across East and South East London:
Jordan, 23, grip on film sets: “Women want to be taken care of. No bill splitting. But, also, like, why can’t they split the bill? I thought that was part of feminism. Or, you know, equality and all that.”
Tim, 29, musician: “They want a guy who calls himself a feminist. Also a guy who listens. But not, like, too much, or they’ll freak. And… you know, they want to ‘feel safe’—but also a little ‘on edge.’ So which is it?”
Nick, 34, vice president at a private equity firm: “Simple—from the ages between 28 to 34, they want to get married. And then, obviously, have kids.”
Jago, 31, chef and restaurant owner: “They say they want emotional availability, but the second you act available, they ghost you. Trust me.”
Miles, 29, creative director: “I’ve no fucking clue. When you figure it out, let me know. You can e-mail me.”
Quentin, 28, ‘funemployed’: “I know that the ones who want to be dominated in bed are the same ones who want to date guys who’ve read Sally Rooney. Speaking of—what did you think of Intermezzo?”
A BRIEF ANALYSIS OF THE ANTHROPOLOGICAL STUDY THAT SOUGHT TO UNDERSTAND WHAT (SIX) MEN THINK WOMEN WANT
“I’ve never really been asked this question so point blank before. Don’t know if I’ve ever really thought about it too much, actually.”
This is what nearly each man told me after I had stopped writing down their answers, in one way or another. And, though the men I interviewed had never considered the question before, each one answered without hesitation. That was the first red flag.
The second red flag, however, was somehow more sinister. Because, lurking in every answer was a disturbing through-line: women’s desires were always tethered to men. And not just men in general—them. Each response was less about women, and more a projection of the man speaking.
Following my weekend spent to-ing and fro-ing between parks and pubs and pints, I realised that what men (well, this specific London-dwelling sextet, at least) so rarely imagine is that women might want something that doesn’t involve them at all. That female desire might be interior, self-sustaining, or aimed elsewhere entirely—toward beauty, solitude, clarity, power, another woman, or a life that doesn’t orbit their approval.
And I also realised that the scariest thing in the world to this certain kind of heterosexual man (especially those found drinking in the sunshine in or around East or South East London) is a woman who can ask “What do I want?” and find that the answer has nothing to do with him.
WHAT WOMEN SAY WOMEN WANT
Now, you cannot possibly think that I wouldn’t ask women the same question for this essay-turned-highly-dubious-anthropological-study-turned-essay-again. Of course I would.
And the women I asked—I couldn’t limit it to just six. I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll ask “What do men want?” and pose the question to multiple men.
But not now. Not for this. I asked multiple women: women I’ve cried in taxis with. Women I barely know. Women who can say “I want this” with a ‘Please’ but without an apology. Women I trust.
(And, though it took longer to answer, I asked myself the same question, too.)
“What do women want?”
The answer, as it turns out, makes for a very, very long list:
Camilla, 27, journalist: “Good sex that always comes with an orgasm.”
Freya, 28, digital producer: “To be treated like a human being.”
Paz, 25, illustrator: “A sunny day with no expectations other to enjoy it.”
Leah, 23, art student and part-time barista: “To be called beautiful… but also not be defined by the beauty in question.”
Caoimhe, 29, policy adviser: “To be well-liked and, also, loved.”
Hannah, 26, theatre director: “There’s a song [Pushing it Down and Praying] by Lizzy McAlpine whose lyrics currently sum it up: ‘I wanna feel guilty / I wanna feel that it’s wrong / I wanna know peace again / Wanna sing a different song.’”
Rachel, 24, content strategist: “A lot of things, but here’s the list for now: Clear skin. The body of someone else. Bigger boobs. A different nose. A better mouth. Well, this is just me. Oh, also, an intuitive clarity that has nothing to do with being chosen.”
Simone, 33, art therapist: “To age gracefully.”
Bella, 33, ‘gallerina’: “To not care about ageing.”
Vivian, 27, human rights lawyer: “To have the freedom of choice.”
Esther, 28, denim designer: “A fast metabolism and several pairs of jeans that fit me perfectly and in which I can both sit and dance.”
Francesca, 28, poet and nanny: “To stop caring about the men who will never love her so much she forgets how to care about herself.”
Marnie, 29, florist: “Given the sunshine, an Aperol spritz with the right amount of condensation around the glass.”
Cam, 24, film student and production assistant: “Honestly? To have the men who they’re in love with tell them they’re sorry and actually do something about it.”
Priya, 31, clinical psychologist: “To no longer feel like she’s ‘bad’ even though she doesn’t exactly know why.”
Daphne, 29, textile artist: “Eat really nice cheese on top of fancy crackers for dinner.”
Antonia, 28, writer and journalist (and author of this piece): “To free themselves from the desire for male validation which is, to me, like tweezing out an ingrown hair on your bikini line: gross yet satisfying, and hopefully done in private.”
By way of relationships both literary and parasocial, I also posed the question to two other women:
Audre Lorde, deceased, writer and professor: “An erotic source of power.”
(AUTHOR’S NOTE: When Lorde pairs power with the erotic, she is not doing so in the way men define it—fast, extractive, consumable—but in the way women should feel, even when no one is watching.)
Fleabag, 33, guinea pig-themed café owner: “I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. What to like, what to hate, what to rage about. What to listen to, what band to like. What to buy tickets for. What to joke about, what to not joke about. I want someone to tell me what to believe in. Who to vote for and who to love and how to tell them. I think I just want someone to tell me how to live my life…because so far I think I’ve been getting it wrong.”
THE ANSWER TO WHAT WOMEN WANT AS CAPTURED ON AN UNSEASONABLY WARM SPRING WEEKEND IN LONDON
So—what do women want?
The answer, as it turns out, is not unknowable. It’s just sprawling. Tangled. Gorgeous in its contradictions. Sometimes aching. Often specific. Always real.
(And nothing, as it turns out, to do with men who enjoy sharing their opinions on Sally Rooney’s oeuvre on a warm spring day in London Fields.)
Some wants are loud and legible: orgasms, clear skin, freedom, tenderness. Some are quieter: to be looked at without being consumed. To be adored without being erased. To be forgiven—though for what, exactly, we’re not always sure.
Within their larger context, certain wants could be considered completely absurd, silly, frivolous—especially when compared to those that are exceedingly, maddeningly practical. And others are not ‘wants’ at all; rather, they are needs reframed politely in an effort to ‘protect’ the answerer from sounding “too much.”
It could be, perhaps, easy to dismiss this list as chaotic, inconsistent, unserious. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Women are constantly asked to make their desires tidy. To make their feelings small enough to fit into someone else’s understanding. To translate their want into something legible and pleasing—to men, to culture, to the cracked mirror of societal expectation.
(And, also, I mean… did you read the men’s answers?)
THE PART WHERE THE QUESTION IS ACTUALLY ANSWERED
What do women want?
To no longer feel like they’re bad even though they don’t exactly know why. To no longer perform and just be. To finally understand what they feel—not what they know.
To free themselves from the chokehold of male validation (see: ingrown hair tweezing). To stop caring so much about him that they can’t remember what it felt like to care about themselves. To have an Aperol spritz with the perfect amount of condensation round the glass.
Women want sex—not because they feel obligated to, but because they feel like it (and can come from it). To both age gracefully and never think about ageing at all. To have only the man who makes her feel like the only person in the room tell her he’s sorry and mean it—because Alie Ward was right: women aren’t attracted to men. They’re attracted to the specific men they want to be seen by.
Perhaps, too, the real thing I’ve learned through this essay-turned-highly dubious anthropological study-turned-essay-again is that what women want is to not feel so alone in their wanting. To not feel like their desire is some private malfunction they have to fix before they can be themselves or whole or lovable.
Too, I’ve learned that the desire for autonomy can exist right alongside the craving for guidance, for clarity, for someone to relieve them of their want because they know what to do with you—it’s not quiet incoherence shrouded in mystery.
It’s womanhood.
And that might be the real answer. The big answer.
PSST—A SECRET
I’ll let you in on a secret: the thing that women want is not a mystery. It is not inherently unknowable. It is not a Sunday Times crossword puzzle, nor is it the Bermuda Triangle, either. And, frankly, in the grand scheme of things, knowing any specific answer is ultimately unimportant.
Because, in truth, the thing to understand is actually quite simple:
Women want. That’s it. They want.
And want.
And want.
And want.
I think that everyone who’s really interested in knowing what a woman wants - really wants - they have to be willing to listen. And that’s where most people (mostly men) fail. Because they make approximations, and try to fit their desire in the woman’s needs, not really understanding that they aren’t part of the answer, at least not directly.
I found the most deep conversations and connections with women when I was fully present, really seeing them as human being and not as just women. Not just as a gender and a reflection of what she should want.
"The answer, as it turns out, is not unknowable. It’s just sprawling. Tangled. Gorgeous in its contradictions. Sometimes aching. Often specific. Always real." - so beautifully written, always in love w ur style of writing