Why Even I Love Twilight
A few years ago I watched “Sex and the City” in my parents’ house. I was enrapt in the episode where Miranda was complaining about her new beau’s “funky spunk.” As I watched, sitting and transfixed with every word, with eyes agog and mouth agape my brother had the temerity to interrupt.
“I don’t get it,” as he munched into a tuna-salad sandwich.
“What the fuck do you mean? It is quite obvious what they are talking about. You know what I don’t get, ‘Sports Center.’ Is it that hard to open up the LA Times and read the sports section, do I need a gorilla to recite what happened fifteen minutes ago ….”
“Actually yes, Sports Center makes as much sense as the boring political stuff you watch. You made Darren write an essay – while watching C-Span.” He grinned.
I admit, I did make Darren do that. But after a brief moment of guilt, I was still perplexed. What can my brother, who is both intellectually superior and infinitely more socially graceful than I, can not understand about Sex and the City?
The central premise of the show transcends all race, sex, creed, religion, and sexual orientations. We have all been Carrie/Miranda/Charlotte/and Samantha at one time. Oh sure, I never had the joy of being much of a Samantha, but I did some things that she would have approved of. Note Samantha is emblematic of much more than sexual gymnastics. She is emblematic of freedom, a certain genou c’est quoi that we are all suppose to exhibit while living our lives. For example, without any consideration for Smith’s career (whom we were suppose to assume made it big under her wings) suggests that the four fly off to Mexico. Playing her professional ball-cutting attitude, Miranda suggest she can’t go because of work. But as I stated earlier, all four are archetypes. We have all been there.
I think the four archetypes in Sex and the City are not that much more different than the four in The Golden Girls, or Frasier, or even I Love Lucy.
(1) Carrie is Dorothy/Sophia is Frasier/Niles/Martin/Daphne is Lucy (when lucid), Ricky (when not screaming) or Ethyl (when not listening to Lucy)
(2) Miranda is Dorothy is Niles is Ricky.
(3) Samantha is Blanche is Frasier (at times, others is Daphne) is Lucy.
(4) Charlotte is Rose is Niles (at other times is Frasier, and near the end is Daphne) is Ethel
The running theme, is that we can exemplify all modes of life into four main characters: the capricious, the philosopher-king, the innocent, and the professional. Which is why my brother’s innocent comment “I don’t get it,” was, and to this day is so bewildering. What don’t you get? It has transcended generations of television. We would all ditch the male/female if he/she had funky spunk.
But unlike Sex and the City, the one cultural phenomenon that I bet my brother does not get – and rightfully so, is Twilight. I am on page 140 right now, but from what little I can gleam from this teenage epic is that it can only speak to the hearts of teenage girls, women, and special subsets of gay men. The first hundred pages of Twilight is all about (a) a red truck, and (b) the stages of some sort of love you know will end in a disaster.
For no good reason, the main character, Bella obsesses over the mysterious-pale fellow with ochre eyes. The first time we are introduced to the enigma he is described as “the beautiful boy …. Picking the bagel with long pale fingers.” By page 87, Meyer opens up a thesaurus and wrote “It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real. I was afraid he might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke….” The book continues with this obsessions. “I wonder what Edward would say,” (about walking along the beach no less)! She dreams about him. She compares different potential mates to him. One would imagine that if she was in the middle of cuninglingus with a werewolf, she would ask him to bare his proverbial fangs. But unlike the characters in Sex and the City, I think my brother has a right in not understanding Twilight.
A quote that I can actually relate to is:
It was the same as yesterday – I just couldn’t keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain (for Edward) and sat at my empty Biology table.
This was during Bella’s obsession phase, where she was constantly longing for this random stranger (whom by the way she has spent the total time-span of a few lab experiments with). Edward this. Edward that. And yes even being disappointed when he is not at lunch. But guess what Dear Reader, that is me, and every woman out there. Now sure don’t send me hate mail by my general statements aimed at large cross-sections of the populace. I am sure there are the sentimental heterosexual males; for example, I work with one. I am also sure there are many women who really do live like Samantha Jones; for example, go to law school. But I can state that I know of many man-whores who can relate to the Chinese saying “For as many stars are in the sky, there are as many women on Earth.” But I, my female coworkers, my best friends (who are all women), and even a friend whom I refer to affectionately as the “Mo” have been there. We all looked at our cellphones to see if there is a missed-call, even though we last checked 5 mins ago. This Sunday, I even scanned my church several times to see if my crush appeared. Forlorn, I passed the collection plate without even reaching into my pockets.
People demonstrate surprise when I tell them I am reading Twilight. When I tell them I am reading a book about Katherine Graham it is acceptable, but Twilight – how dare I besmirch my bookshelf. But guess what, I read it because I am Bella. I (and every romantic) have searched the lunchroom in vain. We have all sat at an empty biology table.
Showing posts with label Dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dating. Show all posts
Monday, December 28, 2009
Is 98 Too Much?
One of the classes that most influenced my life was "Literature and the Law." I learned more about Equal Protection, the Commerce Clause, and Due Process from reading Hawthorne, Melville and Richard Wright than I did in law school. But a memorable quote that I remembered was one that had nothing to do with literature, or the law. My professor was lecturing about the importance of labels and group thought, and in the middle of discussing the importance of Liberia in Uncle Tom's Cabin, he ejaculates what would be unthinkable for an Associate Professor reaching for the golden rod that is tenure (but would lead to an automatic promotion for a school like Vanderbilt), "We are all racists in bed."
It is an interesting notion really. Recently I asked a dear friend if she agreed with this comment. She answered, "Absolutely not, I am a slut." I can actually vouch for her. She is quite the harlot. But I really thought about this situation. In the time when China is ascendant, a Black man is president, and Rick Bayless has made Latin comida all the craze, maybe the 14th amendment has hit the boudoir. But reality hits. In attempt to bring enjoyment to you Dear Reader, I decided to engage in an intellectual exercise and went on Match.com. At a random search, I pulled 600 profiles in Chicago. In the profiles I check the box for a preference for Asian. Of the 600, less than a 100 registered. I may also like to illustrate that many of the profiles that populated were also included for not listing a preference (perhaps brothers of my friend). Sadly enough, many of us may be racists in bed.
But even beyond the issue of race. We do screen out mates. We all have lists. Recently I have been derided by some good friends, and best hags for my list for a potential mate. The list, in its third incarnation totals 98 items. I don't have things enumerating race, but I do have: (20) Can manipulate the Keynesian Cross; (26) Can filet a fish; and (70) Knows who Tom Ford is. In those three items I have effectively screened 90% to 95% of the population (think of my plight if you read Kinsey). In those three items, what was once many fish in the sea, becomes a guppy in my proverbial fish bowl. In order to hit all three, one would likely have gone to college - Keynes is unfortunately not taught in high school. Holding all things equal, one would have to be in a significant tax bracket - Tom Ford's cologne goes for $160. Lastly, one would have to be a foodie - because who really wants to gut a fish. Dear Reader, you are probably thinking, bullshit. What about the college kid at the Art Institute working at Red Lobster? Surely he has heard of Keynes in macro, knows Tom Ford through GQ and can filet a fish when the diners roll in. Excellent point, but I would also like to point to (2) Read the NYT (I am generous to add NYT.com in Version 2), (12) Name 10 DOW Components, (75) Hates Summer blockbusters, (80) Read Lord of the Rings, and (93) Does not have a hard drive worth of porn. I am pretty sure the sous-chef has been knocked out by #2 and #12. But surely, #93 knocked out the college student.
I want to point out, not all my items are focused on the material. I do not look for a mate because he can buy me an island. What I want is someone who has similar values that I have. I stipulate, many are focused on business and finance. (98) Know the difference between an IRA and a 401(k), (11) Watch CNBC and (1) Read The Wall Street Journal. Why? Because I like talking about business, and money. Not because resources buy nice things, its just of interest to me. My relationship with CNBC is akin to many at a bar. This Sunday I passed by a bar, where many crowded around the Green Bay game. None of them have the body or potential to participate in such sport. But they were screaming and jostling like zombies after the last starlet in a mall. Similarly, I just like watching a stock ticker. But even with dealing away with the 20-25 items that revolve around Peggy Noonan, Milton Friedman, and Ayn Rand, I also have many for my own personal convenience. For example: (44) Doesn't drink much - I can't process alcohol very well, or (77) is ok with reading in the bathroom - not since Alexandria has a room housed so much material.
The crucible of all this is, 98 seems like alot. But is it really? We all do it. Some do it with religion; "I will not marry outside my faith." Others do it with finances. And some, yes some do it on race. This list does seem excessive, and admittedly, nobody will ever hit all 98. None of my ex bfs even hit 30.
Over the weekend at brunch, several brilliant fellows argued that I am seeking someone like myself. Hogwash. (86) Spontaneous, (77) Compassionate, (92) Good Listener. Well I am 92, but 86 and 77, I think not.
So why, why do I keep it? Am I a romantic. I presume items 1-67 prove I am not. My friends are right, maybe I should reduce it from 98. Maybe Tom Ford is not all that important. But (43) Order Appetizers are.
For Wednesday: If Fish were Cute, I would Be a Vegetarian.
It is an interesting notion really. Recently I asked a dear friend if she agreed with this comment. She answered, "Absolutely not, I am a slut." I can actually vouch for her. She is quite the harlot. But I really thought about this situation. In the time when China is ascendant, a Black man is president, and Rick Bayless has made Latin comida all the craze, maybe the 14th amendment has hit the boudoir. But reality hits. In attempt to bring enjoyment to you Dear Reader, I decided to engage in an intellectual exercise and went on Match.com. At a random search, I pulled 600 profiles in Chicago. In the profiles I check the box for a preference for Asian. Of the 600, less than a 100 registered. I may also like to illustrate that many of the profiles that populated were also included for not listing a preference (perhaps brothers of my friend). Sadly enough, many of us may be racists in bed.
But even beyond the issue of race. We do screen out mates. We all have lists. Recently I have been derided by some good friends, and best hags for my list for a potential mate. The list, in its third incarnation totals 98 items. I don't have things enumerating race, but I do have: (20) Can manipulate the Keynesian Cross; (26) Can filet a fish; and (70) Knows who Tom Ford is. In those three items I have effectively screened 90% to 95% of the population (think of my plight if you read Kinsey). In those three items, what was once many fish in the sea, becomes a guppy in my proverbial fish bowl. In order to hit all three, one would likely have gone to college - Keynes is unfortunately not taught in high school. Holding all things equal, one would have to be in a significant tax bracket - Tom Ford's cologne goes for $160. Lastly, one would have to be a foodie - because who really wants to gut a fish. Dear Reader, you are probably thinking, bullshit. What about the college kid at the Art Institute working at Red Lobster? Surely he has heard of Keynes in macro, knows Tom Ford through GQ and can filet a fish when the diners roll in. Excellent point, but I would also like to point to (2) Read the NYT (I am generous to add NYT.com in Version 2), (12) Name 10 DOW Components, (75) Hates Summer blockbusters, (80) Read Lord of the Rings, and (93) Does not have a hard drive worth of porn. I am pretty sure the sous-chef has been knocked out by #2 and #12. But surely, #93 knocked out the college student.
I want to point out, not all my items are focused on the material. I do not look for a mate because he can buy me an island. What I want is someone who has similar values that I have. I stipulate, many are focused on business and finance. (98) Know the difference between an IRA and a 401(k), (11) Watch CNBC and (1) Read The Wall Street Journal. Why? Because I like talking about business, and money. Not because resources buy nice things, its just of interest to me. My relationship with CNBC is akin to many at a bar. This Sunday I passed by a bar, where many crowded around the Green Bay game. None of them have the body or potential to participate in such sport. But they were screaming and jostling like zombies after the last starlet in a mall. Similarly, I just like watching a stock ticker. But even with dealing away with the 20-25 items that revolve around Peggy Noonan, Milton Friedman, and Ayn Rand, I also have many for my own personal convenience. For example: (44) Doesn't drink much - I can't process alcohol very well, or (77) is ok with reading in the bathroom - not since Alexandria has a room housed so much material.
The crucible of all this is, 98 seems like alot. But is it really? We all do it. Some do it with religion; "I will not marry outside my faith." Others do it with finances. And some, yes some do it on race. This list does seem excessive, and admittedly, nobody will ever hit all 98. None of my ex bfs even hit 30.
Over the weekend at brunch, several brilliant fellows argued that I am seeking someone like myself. Hogwash. (86) Spontaneous, (77) Compassionate, (92) Good Listener. Well I am 92, but 86 and 77, I think not.
So why, why do I keep it? Am I a romantic. I presume items 1-67 prove I am not. My friends are right, maybe I should reduce it from 98. Maybe Tom Ford is not all that important. But (43) Order Appetizers are.
For Wednesday: If Fish were Cute, I would Be a Vegetarian.
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