I’m not ashamed to admit it – I devoured the Twilight books series in the span of a week and a half; two weeks if you count the online portion of Midnight Sun (the half-completed book that tells the Twilight story from a different character’s point of view).
And I remember watching the first movie (with a friend who will remain nameless) on DVD and I thought it was a bit ridiculous, but whatever. I was still on the Twilight high. There is something about crappy writing about high school angst that moves me ;)
But what literally stopped me cold turkey was an incident that took place about a year ago with two friends (and who will remain nameless as well) on the opening day of New Moon – the second movie in the series.
I bought the tickets a month in advance. I stood in line to ensure I had a decent spot two hours before the movie started. I put up with tweens who thought I was 40 (grrr…) and 40-year-olds acting like tweens. I felt sorry for the overweight and acne-laced teenager who stood in line by herself, clutching the New Moon novel like it was her bible. I snickered at the dads who somehow got movie duty with the kiddos.
But most of all, I laughed my tail end off at the fact that I was even hear in the first place. I felt out of place with no book in hand and no “Team Edward” shirt on.
After settling into the movie theatre (which probably held close to 500 folks), the atmosphere was thick with kids’ cell phones texting their excitement to the friend next to them.
And then the previews began. First up, the Robert Pattinson movie that came out earlier this year called Remember Me. The screams were deafening. I was rolling on the floor laughing at the ridiculousness I was witnessing. My friends and I were looking at each thinking we’re about 20 years too old for this crap.
Once the movie started and two of the “hot characters” were on the screen, the screams began again. It was probably the equivalent of being at a Backstreet Boys concert in the 1990s. Except in a movie theater. And they weren’t in person.
But the best part went down when the film caught fire and melted towards the end of the movie. You would have thought someone stabbed the heart of every female in the dumb theater. Girls were running around screaming. Dads were trying to calm down said girls running around screaming. And my friends and I sunk lower into our chairs, ashamed at the future female population. And that was the precise moment where I stopped caring.
I remembered this event because this morning on the radio, some mother called in saying that the Twilight series was her “everything.” Seriously? A fictional series about vampires is your “everything?” I'm sorry that you live such a pathetic life.
So who wants my Twilight books and my DVD of the first movie? Because I’m done.