Twitard

Several months ago I heard about these young adult books that were really popular. I saw their titles appear on bestsellers lists. Due to my limited interaction with those under the age of 18, I still had no idea what it was all about. When a co-worker of mine began reading them, she was staying up until the wee hours of the morning to finish them. I kept asking "A vampire book for teenagers is what is keeping you up all night?" After seeing friend after friend being picked off by these books, I was intrigued.

Finally someone gave me a copy of the first book and suggested I at least try it. After a week of the book acting as a table decoration, I finally picked it up Sunday at 7pm. I don’t know how it happened or why. All I know is I stayed up until 2 am to finish it. Was it among the great literary classics? No. Did I think it was a little cheesy (okay, a lot cheesy)? Yes. Did I love it anyway? Yes, I did!

What is more shameful of my little secret is how I had accused others of being "twitards." A radio station here coined the term to reference all the Twilight series fanatics. Because the movie had just come out that week, it was almost impossible to get the second book in a bookstore. So, like any computer savvy obsessed fan would do, I found copies of the book on the internet. So this meant I had to read three books on a computer screen. Did it deter me? Nope. Did I finish all four books in four days by staying up late and going home immediately to read? Yes.

Chris has seen me stay up late to finish an occasional book, so he refrained from commenting too much on the first late night reading. However, the fourth day/book was Christmas Day, and he had enough when I asked if I could take the laptop with us in the car on the way to Christmas dinner in Pasadena. He finally drew the line and made me admit out loud that I had a problem – I was a twitard.

He offered to go see the movie with me that next weekend (out of curiousity for a series that had taken his wife over). While the movie was pretty goofy, I was able to convince him to take a crack at reading the first book. He has yet to finish the book and doesn’t think it is all that great.
This brought up some interesting conversation with me and my fellow twitards. Why hadn’t he become obsessive? Was this a female-only affliction? When we discussed why we enjoyed the book (who doesn’t want a superhuman vampire to fall in love and woo you?), we realized something – this was a toned down version of the trashy novels all our moms read! You know which ones I’m talking about – the paperbacks with the hunky man holding a beautiful woman in his arms as the wind blows their hair.

The funny thing is Francesca and I used to tease Mom about those books and those big huge sunglasses she used to wear (which I now own a pair). I guess it is true – we are becoming our mother.

(Chris' comment: Women love this book because it combines the innocent flirting with the bad boy that is trying so hard to be good - and not kill his girlfriend).