My husband is jealous of Edward Cullen—the vampire in the Twilight series that falls desperately in love with Bella, who is noteworthy for her extreme mediocrity.
His jealousy is justified. Edward is, like, so hot.
During sex, Edward is so passionate that he breaks the bed. My husband says that’s nothing—Andy claims that he could easily break the bed during sex too, but it’s impractical. Who wants to buy a new bed multiple times a day? (Multiple times a day! Ha! Who’s he kidding?) But he misses a crucial point. Edward can’t not break the bed during sex.
Andy says that’s probably because Bella gets her furniture from Ikea.
Edward is also rich. No, richer than you’re thinking—definitely rich enough to replace the bed as many times as is necessary. His family owns a private island, and he takes Bella there for their honeymoon. He owns multiple sports cars, lives in a large mansion, and never has to work. The downside is that, since he became immortal while still a teenager, he spends eternity attending various high schools around the country. I guess there are only so many experiments you can do with a Bunsen burner before it gets old.
My husband protests Edward’s immortality. There’s no such thing, he argues. Legend (though not Stephenie Meyer) says that vampires can only be killed by a stake through the heart, a silver bullet, or decapitation. But my husband the naysayer asks, “What about being hit by a bus? That wouldn’t do it? Or if a nuclear bomb detonated in his hands, the entire surrounding area would be decimated, but Edward would be okay?” Andy is still sore about our fully in tact bed, clearly.
According to Stephenie Meyer, though, the world’s current leading expert on vampires, Edward can be killed. It’s just really, really hard. For instance, a werewolf could rip him to shreds—but, since only Native Americans have the ability to morph into werewolves, as long as Edward checks the ethnicity breakdown before moving to a new city, he should be fine for several more centuries.
There is one thing that stops me from trading Andy in for Edward. Aside from being a fictional character, Edward is over a hundred-years-old, and it creeps me out a little bit that he seduces a girl at his local high school. It makes him seem like a rich, dirty old man, like Hugh Heffner. Except that Edward has a lot of romantic one liners, and he continually saves Bella from the shocking abundance of supernatural creatures that reside in her small town, so I try to forget about it and forgive him.
Edward also claims he’s a virgin—even though he was born in 1901 and, as a vampire, he is stunning and irresistible to all women. He says that when he was born, gentlemen waited until marriage. I know. It sounds like a line. One that you would feed to your high school girlfriend that you’re trying to get in the sack. I forgive him, though, because, at least in the movies, he wears more foundation and lip gloss than I typically do, so maybe it has been a few decades since he’s gotten any, and he’s hard up.
My husband also objects to Edward because Edward is dangerous, and it maddens my husband that women really think that’s sexy (and it is). What is sexy, Andy asks, about a creature that either wants to violently murder you and bury the evidence or playfully whisper romantic nothings into your ear? And I would totally agree, except that the romantic nothings Edward whispers are pretty swoon-worthy. I’m not the only woman who thinks so. Teenage girls everywhere wish that their blood would be perfectly tinted to arouse a supernatural creature to either want to kill them or take them to prom.
Edward also watches Bella sleep. My husband says that’s creepy. And it is. Completely. Except when Edward does it. Women have always known that an obsessive stalker they don’t like is an obsessive stalker, but a sexy, obsessive stalker is totally romantic. And when he’s not wearing lipstick and cover up, Edward is sexy.
I guess, to my husband, Edward is a creepy old man who preys upon a young high school girl—a sort of psycho who wants to either kill his young mistress or have sex with her—all while wearing a foundation that makes his skin look unnaturally even and blemish-free. And I guess Andy’s right in his description. But score one for Stephenie Meyer—because, against all odds, she made every girl in America find that creepy old man deliciously sexy.