- Deep down, I am a thirteen year-old girl and
- I am in love with Robert Pattinson
This conclusion stemmed from one tiny moment over Christmas break when the Boy From Work, who is trying to suck up to me in any way he can--and he knows a good way to suck up to me is by buying me books--handed me the first book in the Twilight series and said, "Merry Christmas!"
"Hey!" I said. "Great!" Just before I left Maine for New York, I'd decided that since I had a big stretch of time to sit around and do nothing (which is exactly the opposite of what I really did), I was going to do a little investigative work about this whole Twilight phenomenon.
I've been feeling a little out of touch with pop culture lately--especially pop culture that revolves around the younger people. You know, middle and high schoolers. And, yes, I realize I'm not in middle or high school and therefore should not be overly concerned with what's going on there, but this, I think, is part of the slow and inevitable process of becoming uncool. With each year we get progressively more uncool, and this concerns me. I like to know things. I like to be in the know. Uncool people are not in the know.
And, sure, I know many exceptions to this with-every-year-we-become-more-uncool rule, but I am pretty sure I am not going to be one of those exceptions. When I went home for Christmas break, everyone was wearing sweater dresses, and I was like, We're wearing these now? Okay, I should probably get one. I feel less like I've got my finger on the pulse of pop culture and more like I've got my finger on the pulse of fuddy-duddines.
And so when the whole Twilight thing hit, I had no idea what everyone was talking about. What was the big deal about these books? What were they even about? The covers didn't really give me much to go on, and I didn't ever really get the itch to pick them up. I figured the buzz would die down and go away, and I could move on to not knowing about the next thing that came out.
Then came the movie. That's when I finally understood. I saw the trailer and thought, Huh. It seemed poorly acted and unintentionally hilarious. But there was also a small part that seemed sort of hot. So I decided I should probably see it. Everyone was talking about the cute guy who was in it, and I like cute guys, so I was all ready to pay my eight bucks and be part of the buzz.
But then I got over that. And I forgot about it for a while. Then, right before Christmas break, I was on Amazon and saw the books and looked at the description. I decided to read the first page of the book, and when I didn't hate it--when I thought, Well, here's a young adult book with a narrator who doesn't sound like a twittering twit--I decided I was going to buy the first book and see if I liked it.
But the BFW beat me to it. I started the book the same day he gave it to me, and I finished it almost immediately. I hated to admit it, but the book was hot. There's something about the plot that appeals to me--or, more precisely, my thirteen year-old self. Smart, klutzy girl who doesn't think so much of herself and is loved by a vampire who wants to suck her dry but loves her too much to do it. And that's what's so hot: that this girl could be his downfall, his ruin, but there is something about her that makes him be contrary to his nature.
And isn't that the essence of all the traumatic relationships I've ever had? I want the bad boy with the bad habits to want me so badly, so much, that he goes against his nature--his very essence--to make it work with me. Is it any wonder the book appeals to me?
So, when I came back to Maine after having finished the first and moving into the second book of the series, I decided it was time to see the movie. I was curious. I had pretty good pictures of the characters in my head, and I had definite feelings about some of them (like, for example, major love for the vampire Edward), and I wondered if those could translate to the screen.
Did they? Well, it's interesting. The movie is kind of a mixed bag. It is sometimes acted so poorly it made me giggle in inappropriate places--places where the actors were going for Dramatic Emotion. The book is--of course, of course--a million times better, but I do have to say that it was worth going to the theater just to see Robert Pattinson play Edward Cullen. And while he was often why I was giggling at inappropriate times, there were moments when he was perfect. Perfect. So perfect I wished I could stab myself in the heart because I wanted to be his girl Bella in the worst way. I wanted him to want to touch me, even if he knew it was the most dangerous thing he could do. I wanted him to want to do it anyway. Which he would. And it would be hot. Like:
The hair! The lips! The white skin! The eyebrows! The eyebrows!!! I spent half of the movie hyperventilating over them. (I am beginning to sense a pattern.)
After the movie, I raced home and consulted IMDB to determine my level of perviness. After all, when I was in the movie theater, I was surrounded by high schoolers--an awful lot of dark-haired nerdy types--and they were sighing and reaching for their popcorn and chocolate every time there was one of those moments when it looked like Edward was going to take a sip from Bella's jugular. Which is exactly what I was doing, too. I hefted York Peppermint Patties to my lips and sighed wistfully at the pale-faced, red-lipped boy on the screen. I wish a vampire was in love with me, I thought. Then I thought, Gross. That's what all these sixteen year-olds are thinking. I needed to get a grip. And what if Robert Pattinson was underage? Just how gross would I feel about myself then?
Thankfully, IMDB told me Robert Pattinson is almost twenty-three years old. Score one for me. I can lust after him and feel slightly less perverted than I originally feared. He is, after all, the same age as the Boy From Work. Which also means he is my brother's age, but I'd like to think Robert Pattinson and his milky skin is way classier than my brother, who, this Christmas, refused to change out of his Miller Lite pajama pants when we took the traditional family Christmas photograph in front of the tree.
And even if Robert Pattinson did own a pair of Miller Lite pajama pants, his character Edward would not. He'd rather die. And if I asked Edward Cullen to come stand next to me for a traditional Christmas photograph, I'm fairly certain he'd tell me to wait a second because he's just going to make sure his hair looks nice, and I would tell him his hair always looks nice, and then we would make out under the mistletoe until it becomes unbearable, until he can't stand it, until he has to back away lest he take one small nip at the curve of my neck.