Perv

'Being able to perv makes life worth living' exclaimed a fellow student to me earlier today after I asked her why she did it so unashamedly.

Apparently, life is boring and tiresome if you haven't got your eyes on somebody's bulge or tits. I partly agree with this statement. But there are always other things you could do to relieve yourself of boredom. You could learn how to swim, or write a blog...

Another friend commented that perving on men was a part of her emancipation. And then she continued to spew forth some feminist drivel about objectifying men the way they had done for years and years. Yawn.

A group of my classmates have formed a perv gang; they position themselves at computers directly behind the object of their lust, they sit around cafe tables and have a perving discussion, you know the sort of stuff; 'Hot stuff over there, he's really fit. Who's that girl, she's mighty fine. I'd do anything for him, he's just got the best face I've ever seen, he's beautiful'. Yawn.

What's the point of it all? Perving is so aimless. I suppose all pervs probably secretly hope that the object of their lustful gaze might just overhear them, or see them looking at their bulge, and come over and confess 'I really like you, I've always been shy, you should have come to me earlier, I think you're really hot, let's go out and have a life of rampant sex and maybe even a wonderful relationship.'

Of Course (s)he never will, for (s)he hasn't yet developed the power of listening to conversations which take place a hundred feet away, or conversations which take place when (s)he isn't around. And what a shame that is.

Perv too long and it'll be gone. And imagination was never meant to stretch for an entire lifetime. What could have been will never be. The bulge you saw was probably the biggest cock you'd ever have had. And now, because you're a looker and not a doer, you're buggered, (though you wish you had been).

Perving is to sex the way looks and a smile are to love. On the first rung of the ladder to success. But still, there are 7 rungs on which to tread. And then you can say you've been emancipated. Only then.