The presidency of the United States boasts quite a catalogue of great men, some greater than others, some, ahem, much greater than others. Among the list of 42 men who have been elected to lead this great nation of ours, I have to admit that there are quite a few who are crushable.

We all know that JFK was the cutest prez, but his death is rather too recent and too tragic.

My next thought was FDR. The man did get elected four, count ‘em FOUR times by the American people. Who doesn’t like someone popular? Not to mention the fact that he did all he could to pull the American economy and its melancholy people out of a depression. He started Social Security, initiated work relief programs. He even taxed the wealthy, for God’s sake. Also, Eleanor is wonderful, and I admire a man who admires a strong woman — it shows good sense, among other things.

But FDR was, quite tragically, in a wheel chair. And although he was a great man, my presidential crush needs to be able to go on long, romantic walks, hike, chase me down. It just wouldn’t work.

I then considered Andrew Jackson. He has fun, crazy hair, and he was nicknamed “Old Hickory” for his toughness. Every woman wants someone sturdy and strong — it appeals to our lumberjack ideal/fantasy. But, he had the entire Indian Removal plan, and I don’t do bigots.

Then I immediately thought of Washington, who did lose the battle but won the war, and we all love those men who stick to it. I can’t do his gut and his wig, though. Or the wooden teeth.

Jefferson seemed perfect. After all, the man had beautiful hand-writing, included “the pursuit of happiness” in the Declaration of Independence, was really tall, had, quite endearingly, strawberry-blonde colored hair, and was a genius. He once learned Gaelic so he could translate “Ossian” (some Gaelic book) into English. Also, he nervously mumbled through his speeches — and we all love someone that is remarkable and vulnerable at the same time.

But he had slaves. And had affairs with them too — couldn’t do it.

And so I arrived upon him, the perfect president: Dwight David “Ike” Eisenhower. I’ll tell you right now, I like Ike, a lot, and there are more than enough reasons why.

Ike was an athlete in high school and college. He was elected presidenct twice, so he was popular and well-liked. He was a good ol’ fashioned boy from Texas and had six brothers, which means he was most likely humble and most definitely knew how to share. He worked for two years to help his brother go to college, so not only does he value family, but he is selfless and giving as well, very good traits to have in order to sustain a long-term, emotionally-balanced relationship.

He was a leader — who doesn’t love a man in charge — and he climbed the political latter quickly, seemingly always getting made the head of something. He was Chief of Staff of the US Army, in charge of NATO, and was even the president of Columbia University. Besides his presidency, he was most noticeably the Supreme Commander of the Allied Forces in WW II and successfully invaded France and Germany. Before the attack, in case of a failed offensive, Eisenhower wrote in a short speech, “My decision to attack at this time and place was based on the best information available. The troops, the air and the Navy did all that bravery could do. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.” Who gives a beautiful admission of failure and responsibility like that? Who says things like that at all?

How can you not love a man who doesn’t accuse or look for scapegoats but honestly and sincerely recognizes his own mistakes? A man who admits his mistakes... I bet he would pull over and ask for directions, too.

Also, he loved cooking. It takes a sensitive, thoughtful man to be a chef. Famously, he BBQ-ed on the White House roof, which means he is quirky and fun to boot. Mamie, you were one lucky lady.