Dear Twilight: No, Really, YOU Hang Up

Today’s Anti-Twilight Week post is brought to you by The Naked Readhead.  She writes about dating, relationships and other drivel on her aptly named website, The Naked Redhead.  In her spare time, she enjoys telling other people what to do, strutting around pompously, and knitting.  She lives in Columbus, OH with her boyfriend, two cats, and neurotic dog.

Oh lord, Twilight. I read the books—yes, I did—but that doesn’t mean that I don’t still feel icky about wasting two weeks of my life reading the novel equivalent of, “I love you more. No, I love YOU more. YOU hang up. No, YOU hang up. Did you hang up? I love YOU more.” Barf.

I, however, am not here to talk about the ridiculous, love-sick relationship the story entails, the over-exaggerated emotions that come from heavy petting in the name of celibacy, or the fact that the Cullen’s would be much more entertaining if they were true to their own natures (i.e. the killing of the humans and the drinking of the human blood). I won’t talk about the unhealthy message the books send to girls about the attractiveness of mumbling, poor posture and moody sighs. I won’t even talk about how Victorian morals are uplifted to the heights of gold-covered cancer cures, or how the thesaurus is Meyer’s preferred writing tool.

Let’s talk, instead, about how in the real world no vampire, wolf, human or otherwise would date Bella Swan long term. I don’t care how good her blood smells, she is the worst kind of literary romantic hero. Can you imagine if Jane Eyre had almost been hit by a truck because she was listening to her iPod and mooning over Rochester at the same time? I think not.

Without further ado…

First, Bella is un-dateable because she has a condition I like to call, “I look like I have scurvy.” WHY is this girl so sickly looking? Seriously, start pumping her full of vitamin D, STAT. Perhaps moving from Arizona to Forks wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Second, the girl is an accident waiting to happen. What, she breaks her leg, cuts herself, crashes a motorcycle, and all within the first two books? Wait a second…no one is THAT accident prone. Hmmm…Freshman Psychology…ah yes, it’s called Munchausen’s Syndrome. Watch out, boys. First she’s harming herself, then it’s you and the kids getting furniture polish poured in your soup.

Third, there’s the “Oh, Edward, me so lonely” issue that she carried on for most of book two (…what was it called? Even-tide? ). Jacob—hot, sexy, man-wolf Jacob—tried so hard to vie for her attention despite the fact that she wouldn’t give him the time of day. I wish she knew that she doesn’t have to pine over a cold piece of undead-guy when she has a perfectly healthy, virile animal who’d jump her bones at any second. (Which makes me wonder, would Jacob be a leg humper?)

–Speaking of humping…Bella, honey, if Edward doesn’t want to sleep with you, it’s not because of his moral code…he’s obviously sleeping with somebody else (my money’s on your little friend Jessica). Also, “try the shoes on before you buy them”, my dear. Wouldn’t it be horrible to get married to a vampire only to find he’s super bad in bed? He’s been Straight-Edge for over a century…or so he says.–

Finally, Bella’s complete lack of logic is astounding and a slap in the face to smart women everywhere. We’ve taken the self-defense classes, we carry our mace, and we don’t walk alone after dark…but not Bella. SHE goes to visit an abandoned dance studio without telling anyone first, puts her accident prone ass on a motorcycle, or runs into a room full of ancient Italian vampires who find her to be a tasty snack. She also, apparently, neglects her pre-natal vitamins and gives birth to a baby who’s just about as big as she is. And then, when the pregnancy gets complicated, she has to have her husband rip the baby out of her uterus with his teeth. (Good lord, Meyer, get a hobby.)

LADIES–all you teenagers and middle-aged married women—this girl is not a protagonist to idolize. This story is not the script to fawn after and wish was your life. You do not want a stalker man who slavishly devotes himself to your protection. Many women have taken out restraining orders for less. This “love story” is total and utter drivel, and while I’m all for “escapism”, I also enjoy reading about people that I actually like and think are smart, whether they’re Orcs, elves, witches, homely housemaids, vampires or otherwise.

I guess I’ll just have to wait for the next installment…Dimness. Maybe the characters will redeem themselves, go to couple’s therapy and talk about their need for space. Maybe Jacob will learn to go potty outside for once. Who knows? One can only hope that the next conversation graduates from eighth grade phone call to grown-up conversation.

And if not…no, really, you hang up.