Someone recently accused me of objectifying women. While the semantics of said slander are debatable, I cannot argue that I have not put women on an unfair pedestal, both to them and myself. I'm guessing this individual feels that I see women as simply physical spectacles, which is invariably false; in fact, the true reasons for my intrepidation are the numerous evidences that there is something else internal a hundred times more provocative than their physical facets will reveal. Granted, this "else" is perceived chemically, metaphysically, in the vague way I understand much of the world around me, so I may be misleading myself down again more romantic roads. There could be little else but physical beauty inducing an ignominiously overpowering euphoria.
I, being so introverted, cannot deduce more. I can say that for many long years I've been exposed to the aesthetics of Hollywood, magazine covers, etc. and have thus become something of a connoisseur (or dilettante) regarding feminine beauty. However, instead of confining my perception of beauty to a certain twisted mold (I, for one, despise the Barbie look) I've found that innumerable tiny non-traditional features make a woman more than lovely. The crook of a nose, the gleam of a robust cheek, a heartfelt and thus heartwarming smile, a lilting walk, a tuft of hair hanging about the ear, etc. And these observations (in their infinite variations and combinations) only lead me to wonder what's on the inside, and that's where I make my approximate (and rarely final) analysis. In short, I do not assume that a beautiful woman is kind, understanding, profound, versatile, intelligent, engaging, etc. Rather my experiences with women both recent and long since past have taught me the opposite.
Though no one else but me is likely reading my BLOG anymore, perhaps because I've managed to unintentionally piss off the whole of my small circle of might-have-been friends, I still hope that my defense stands, if only to provide an explanation.