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Scientifically Objectified

| Romantic | July 2, 2015

(I’m an arts student, and I have an end of year exhibition at uni, during which my brother comes down to visit me. He’s usually a pretty typical, grubby nerd and STEM student, but has made something of an effort to dress up for once, in Doc Martins, rolled up skinny jeans and a nice shirt. He’s also quite an anxious person with low self esteem, which he compensates for by being hilariously egotistical. As we’re walking up the university steps to the exhibition, some girls wolf whistle at him, and he scowls.)

Me: “What’s annoying you?”

Brother: “Those girls whistling at me. I don’t approve.”

Me: *thinking the conversation is turning towards feminism* “Oh, got a taste of what being objectified feels like?”

Brother: “No, I’m fine being objectified. It’s just they’re artists. They should know they don’t deserve a scientist’s affection.”

Me: *lovingly* “Oh, [Brother], you’re the most elitist a**-hole I’ve ever met.”

Brother: “Hey, it’s not my fault I’m better than everyone else.”

(Luckily (?), he never wonders why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He already knows.)

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