As an informed woman, this year’s election proved to be difficult. I’ve followed the media coverage, and by all accounts, “Hail to the Chief” should be replaced with Rod Stewart’s “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?”

I ought to have cared about health care, the national deficit, Social Security, economic reform and silly things like student loans and military spending — but I just didn’t.

This election was overwhelming.

There were distinguished hairlines, ironed khakis and more suits than any girl can be expected to handle.

I felt so, like, flustered. How could I focus on the issues while deciding whether a blue or red necktie looked more presidential?

Upon his election, Cosmopolitan magazine made a list of things its

readers hoped President Obama would do. We wanted a telecommunications tax against men who don’t text back. We wanted Dr. McDreamy appointed surgeon general. It was expected that he would work a shirtless run along the Potomac into his schedule as a part of healthy lifestyle initiative.

Apparently the leader of the free world was too busy to address the concerns of women in America.

There were important things to consider before hitting the polls.

Should I forgive Obama for wearing dad jeans? His passive aggressive debate tendencies suggested he’d let me get the last word in a fight.

I’m also drawn to older, wiser men. Joe Biden is no spring chicken, and he could explain to this whippersnapper exactly what “malarkey” means. Let’s not get started on the snowy white combover … I also considered Romney’s bold assertion of masculinity during the debates. The way he cut everyone else off to repeat himself — now that’s a man I’d like to (quietly) make a sandwich for. I could easily see myself as a woman in one of his binders.

Part of me said to hell with the state of the nation, show me the state of Paul Ryan’s abs post P90X.

A rock-hard rebound after so much change these last four years could be just what I needed. I can’t explain his policies, but I know he’s just so totally dreamy. That could be platform enough for me.

When the time to examine the real issues at hand presented itself yesterday, I considered many things—hairstyles, charisma, fashion sense, the ability to kiss babies and look important. It was all too much to comprehend — I brought a cootiecatcher to the polls.