The vast majority of his peers disgusted him. They caused a physical reaction, where whenever any of

The vast majority of his peers disgusted him. They caused a physical reaction, where whenever any of them would enter into a ‘romantic’ situation, and he spat at the use of that, although it was the best that he could do, the way they behaved would twist his guts into a knot, and he would struggle not to lash out, point directly at the stupidity and misogyny of their actions, before curling in on himself and imploding quietly.  The obsession with the physicality of it all was what frustrated him the most. Arbitrary values assigned to body parts, as if you could butcher the girl and turn her into a pick and mix, selecting those that you wanted to devour, and those you’d rather leave for some other poor unfortunate. It wasn’t so much the poor attitude with which they treated the girls that really annoyed him, though, it was just the stupidity of it. That they didn’t understand that there was so much more.  That a girl wasn’t just nice eyes and an arse. That her breasts weren’t just the shape that they occupied, but erogenous zones that you could turn into trigger points, rendering her a mess of warm and fuzzy that just begged you to let them have a little more. That the high you could get off the power, off exploring the personality of the girl, and twisting and turning that into something depraved and sexual, was so much more than just getting your dick wet. It was so inanely, banally boring that he wanted to drown them in violence just to clear the air.  There was a niggle, though. The kind that scratches at the walls of your self confidence, at the idea that you're infallible and sure. That you’re right. The niggle was that maybe he wasn’t so very far from them, that the way he saw women was just a step up, not a step away. That the way he stripped personalities apart and knew that if he did this they’d react in that way that he liked. He stripped down their mental side as the others stripped down their physical. Weren’t they just approaching the same thing from different angles? He asked a girl the question, when she was still panting and sore. She frowned, and shrugged for a few moments. He thought she wouldn’t say anything, but then she spoke. “It doesn’t matter. The fact is you’re different.” He couldn’t help but frown. Different wasn’t what he was after. He wanted better.  “But if I’m just doing the same thing, then I’m just as bad. Just a different brand.” Again she shrugged. “And maybe if every guy was like you we’d rally against the mental objectification of women. But I’d much rather a guy objectify my mind than my tits. At least that way I’m going to get a good conversation out of it.” He laughed.  -- source link

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