Twilight Shame
I am finally coming clean. I read Twilight.
I resisted for a long time but eventually, lemming that I am, I succumbed. I wanted to know why girls were squealing over a vampire, and why their mom’s were swooning as well. I was curious about the anti-feminist undertones of being in love with the ultimate bad boy. Falling for a guy who will kill you and suck your blood takes self destructive love affairs to a whole new level.
Equally intriguing in this day and age was the idea of the guy as savior and protector, since Edward the high school vampire can stop cars and lecherous bad guys with his bare hands. Combine that with the abstinence message – if you lose control and have sex your vampire boyfriend will get too excited and, oopsie, eat you. The fact that the author is a Mormon sealed my fate. The temptation to check out the book was irresistible.
I bought the book. I pretended I was getting it for my non-existent tween daughter, rolling my eyes conspiratorially at the store clerk. I read it in private of course, embarrassed even when I knew I was alone.
It’s a good story, sure. A good vampire yarn has it’s place. But sexy teenage vampire Edward is definitely not my type. First of all:
- He’s dead.
- He’s cold. There are numerous mentions of his icy lips and hands, and how he needs to put a blanket between himself and the heroine when they are embracing because otherwise she’d freeze. I am cold enough as it is. I need someone warm to help thaw the ice blocks pretending to be my toes.
- He doesn’t eat food, being a vampire and all. Huge turn off. It would be pretty dull hanging out with Edward at a buffet.
- He hunts animals so that he can suck their blood instead of human blood. I hate hunting.
- He needs to be in a rainy non-sunny environment because otherwise he gets too sparkly and his identity could be revealed. I love the sun. I get depressed without it.
- There are multiple references to his marble chest and him being like statue. Not very cuddly. Bleah.
- He seems way too into his car.
Considering I didn’t catch Twilight fever, it should have been enough for me to stop with the book. Alas, no. Last night I went to see the movie. Alone. The Sweetie was at a beach volleyball game, so I didn’t have to explain where I was going. Luckily I had the whole theatre to myself. I slunk in at the last minute, buttered popcorn in hand, hat pulled over my eyes, and sunk deep into my seat, praying that no one else would come in. I remained alone with my shame, shrinking from the screen with embarrassment yet unable to look away. I’ll admit that I found Robert Pattison to be a dreamy vampire and, in spite of myself, I got tingly when he and Bella shared their first kiss.
Damn you Twilight. You sucked me in. Now I must live with this shame and mourn the hours I’ll never get back.
