How about lemon meringue socks?
Hmmm. I don’t think so. At least I haven’t found that to be so. At least not with mature women.
If you tell her new shoes look great with that dress, and she weard them to a party where her best friend says “Honey, where on earth did you get those things”, you’re dirt.
Best to be truthful. IMO, anyway.
But I can’t lie for shit.
No socks for me, thanks. They seem so uncomfortable. I don’t even particularly like closed-toe shoes. Let my pretty toes show!
What I want? Hmmm. I’m fairly happy with what I’ve got. Someone to share my life with might be nice. But it’s also nice that I can handle things on my own.
Susan
I have shared my life with a few women, and vitually every one, when they just wanted to be comfy and didn’t care about appearances, wanted pajamas and socks of some sort. Especially if they weren’t feeling their best. No lingere, bare feet, or anything sexy like that. Just snuggle with their favorite snuggler and no “funny stuff” 
I suspect Susan’s “Let my pretty toes show!” may be part of the equasion. The need (okay, preference) to be always “pretty”.
The preceding is simply a loving observation, and not a negative criticism at all. 
Peace,
mangeorge
BTW; I wonder, do women in lesbian relationships feel any different about what they want?
I have $20 U.S., and me. Will that do? 
I want an army of servants to cater to my every whim, but I’m sure that’s not an exclusively female thing.
I want that too, but I want them to all love me. Completely. I’m male. And secure. Really. 
I like socks, but not in bed. I like socks, but not athletic ones or the ones that are sold for “holidays” with pumpkins and holly etc on them.
What do I want?
15 (more) pounds gone in a poof of smoke, never to return
What I want to watch, when I want to watch it-commercial free
life time supply of chocolate (the kind I like)
someone to rub my feet endlessly, until I say stop
and dang it, lemon meringue pie!
I can make chocolate truffles, the kind with ganache inside and rolled in cocoa powder.
I’ve also made deep-fried chocolate balls, also made with ganache, but I’ve forgotten how.
One of the best chocolate makers in the world, Scharffen Berger, is right here in the SF Bay area (Berkeley). They make chocolate from the bean, not by reforming premade chocolate.
Good stuff. Best hot chocolate you ever tasted.
Mmmm
Worth every penny
I can only speak for myself, but my list of wants is:
Chocolate
Pizza
The Simpsons
Sex
A job I don’t hate
Someone to share my chocolate, pizza, simpsons and sex with on a regular basis
They actually make good women’s socks now. Big comfy thick 97% cotton socks that last forever. They market them to diabetics.
All a woman* wants is a man* who thinks she’s hot in those socks, his sweatpants, and a sweatshirt with bleach spots that comes to her knees.
And a job at which she makes at least 95% of her male peers.
And the self-assurance to take ‘bitch’ as a compliment.
And to not have the car salesman/mechanic/tradesperson run a scam on her.
And something between Jane Austin and Erica Jong.
And red snake-skin spike-heeled pizza-toe shoes, cut below the arch and exposing just a bit of the toes, that drop of her heel when she crosses her legs.
And thinner thighs for everyone.
*Adjust fantasy to your gender preference
I had a mug once that said, “All I want is world peace and thin thighs.”
When you turned it around it said, “Ah, shit. Forget world peace.”
What do I want? It’s pretty simple. A family who doesn’t mind eating quiche for dinner several times per week. A really good, hard backrub and foot rub a few times a month. Someone who realizes that Valentine’s Day can be fun without buying into the commercialism or getting cynical. As much time as I want to paint with the music turned up loud. A lover who doesn’t mind the kind of raucous sex that makes you embarrassed the next day if you think too hard about it, but has the discretion not to say anything on said “next day”. Oh, and the body I had when I was 22–the one I could bounce quarters off of, when I could bend my knees to lower myself to the floor over 60 seconds, evenly, without shaking, and had the 22 inch waist.
I’d also like the secret to not getting those forehead/between the eyebrows wrinkles, and to realize the myth that “pimples go away when you’re an adult.”
As long as we’re in the mythological realm now, I’d like to go back in time 10 or 15 years and get on my current medication back then, before The Crazy ruined so many opportunities for me.
I would like to know, just once (ok not JUST once, but I’ll settle for just once) what unconditional love feels like. I’d like to know what it feels like to have a lover who isn’t constantly measuring you up against some mystic scale that I’m not privy to the details of.
But mostly, I’d like my son to grow up into the loving and caring person he is growing into; I’d like to marry the man I’m in love with and grow old and wrinkly together; I’d like to maintain the strong friendships I have right now, including and especially my ex-husband, even though none of them live closer than 500 miles to me and I am totally the suckiest “keeping in touch” person ever 
And it goes without saying that I’d like to master Rubenstein’s Revenge and The Factory/The Machine with balls and doing chops with clubs. Those last ones will happen, no doubt.
Oh yeah… what women want. That last bit probably doesn’t apply to most. Chocolate and a magical fat/cellulite disappearance want would be top of the list. As would decent hair care including coloring that cost less than $100 without leaving you looking like a $2 whore.
I just give that answer because Shania explicitly says during the song’s fadeout, “This is what a woman wants!”