It is not what we say or do, but the things we love that define us, and the thing that most defines us is the Game of Thrones dude we love the most. Here is our completely accurate and 100-percent scientific analysis of what your favorite Game of Thrones dude says about you.
You know nothing. You are so naive you probably think virgins are really good at sex and that if you just love a guy hard enough, everything will be OK, even though neither of you has retirement savings and you constantly have to use leftover take-out napkins because neither of you remembered to buy toilet paper.
You gave up your adolescent love of emotionally damaged sad boys right about the time you got your first real bra. You’re planning for the long-term. You take care of your skin, eat vegetables, and are looking for a guy with a job who is nice to his mom and ready to start living that good life you’ve both been preparing for so assiduously. (If he’s hot as hell, that’s just a benefit.)
You super love your dad. Now, you’d certainly never say that you wanted a dude like your dad, because that’s weird. But you wouldn’t mind a dude who had all the good, dadly qualities your dad possesses, and not any of the other ones. (FYI, do not ever call a dude you are having sex with “Daddy.” Everyone thinks that is weird. Especially do not do it when you finally meet the sexy, well off, assertive older guy you’ve been looking for, because that will just make him feel old and cranky.)
You believe in having sex on the first date, but only if you go to an expensive restaurant and the famous chef comes out and says hello. You are the only person alive who does not consider it a turn-off when your date is rude to the waitstaff. When you get married, you are going to make all your bridesmaids get spray tans.
Your main goal in life is to be with a guy who can bench press you. You’re a fierce, go-getting career woman, and you love a guy with some great, big shoulders. You adore chain food restaurants that post calorie counts on the menus because you like having all the information in front of you and feeling in control of things. You also love avocado, iced cafe mochas, and getting fancy salads for lunch. You love those things almost as much as you like jackets and skirts that flutter in the wind behind your legs. Also horses. You could watch a man ride a horse for, like, hours.
You’re, like, weirdly afraid of lizards, and when you were a kid you loved sandboxes and play kitchens. Now you’re an adult and you love alcohol and fancy stuffed animals like any right-thinking adult would. Stuffed animals of bacteria are especially hilarious. You have very good taste and almost certainly love Broad City and Hyperbole and a Half.
Your spirit animal is a Sephora store. You love makeup, especially if it comes in a fancy designer package. A shiny gold tube of lipstick is the best accessory. Sales get you into trouble sometimes, because you’re always like, “Oh I didn’t mean to buy this right now, but it’s on sale and I’ll never find it this cheap again!” We can’t even get into how many things you’ve bought because if you spent $2 more you’d get free shipping.
You were always one of the smart kids, and you probably did one of the weird “smart kids” clubs like Mathletes or Quiz Bowl or Academic Decathalon or Forensics or Debate or something like that. You always kind of wanted to be an actress, but had a really hard time getting cast in anything. You really want a nice guy, but for some reason you keep getting with flashy hot dudes who aren’t as good and sweet and noble as you want them to be.
You are lying. Nobody likes Joffrey.
What? Ew. Stop it.
OK, that’s more like it. You like spicy food and good wine and honey and olives and silk clothes the color of saffron, which means you want to peace out of the Six Kingdoms and go live in Dorne where women can inherit shit and everyone doesn’t look so dour and pinched all the time. You never met an animal print you didn’t like, and some day you will upholster every surface of your house in velvet.
You’ve been spending a surprising amount of time on Reddit lately, and were pleased to discover it does not seem nearly as gross and misogynistic as you’ve been led to believe, but that’s mostly because you’ve been reading about makeup and retirement plans. You have an itchy spot and you’re not sure if it’s a bug bite or a flesh-eating virus, and you’re a little afraid to google it and find out.