The Twilight effect or, thank you, Stephenie

The Twilight effect or, thank you, Stephenie




Ok, statistics first. I'm 43, husband, father, PR guy. Team Edward.


I knew the basics of Stephenie Meyer's wildly popular "Twilight Saga" phenomenon. A high school girl, Bella, falls in love with a vampire, Edward. He's a gentleman: chivalrous, conservative, no sex until marriage. She's self-deprecating to a fault. The book series sold like, well, like Twilight books.

For me, first came the movie. We got a free weekend of Showtime and "Twilight" was on. Boom, I was hooked. Now, I know movies and this was no great film, but it captured my attention. I couldn't stop talking about it. Talked with my wife, mother, co-workers and strangers. My 14-year-old daughter avoided laughing at me, to my face at least.

We got the set of four books and I dove in. We rented "New Moon" the following weekend. It was a better movie, still not great. That Jacob-the-werewolf-thing: Didn't care for it. The books though, they were different. I've never read "young adult" romance fiction, but by the end of Twilight, I was even more hooked. Can't say what exactly I was hooked on, but it had me.

Two movies down and into book two — "New Moon." Man, she loved Edward. Hole in the chest love. Emptiness and indescribable pain when separated. But again, that whole Jacob thing.

Books three and four — "Eclipse" and "Breaking Dawn" — were even better. They put meat on the bones of Bella's and Edward's love saga. While the movies focus too much on brooding angst, the books have a warm, almost light
feel, despite that Jacob nuisance.

So, there I was, reading the final pages of "Breaking Dawn." I was sitting on the couch next to my wife. She'd been amazingly supportive of my Twilight adventure. She's happy any time I'm reading instead of watching TV. Then, I was done. The saga was over.

I was sad. It was a happy ending. It had to be. But I still didn't know why I'd reacted the way I did. So I did something dudes don't do — I examined my emotions. Very strange. Uncomfortable even. After weeks and re-reading the books, I figured it out. It was obvious, right there, like she always is.

The reason I'd been so taken with this young adult romance was because I'd once been a young adult. I was older than 17 when I met my "Bella," but I knew right away. Within moments of meeting Diana, my life had changed.

I'm far from "Edward the vampire" perfect. I don't think before I open my mouth and I tick off my Bella more than I should, but I love her as much as the day I met her. Edward has nothing on me in the true love department.

While writing this, I walked over and kissed her and told her I love her. I could tell her a hundred thousand times, write poems and songs and pay a skywriter to put it up in the clouds and that wouldn't be enough to show her what she means to me.

I can remember like yesterday the moment I first saw her. She smiled and boom, I was hooked. I asked her to marry me 10 minutes later. Luckily, she took me seriously when I asked her for real.

So yes, I admit it. The Twilight Saga helped me realize something I knew all along, something I don't acknowledge nearly enough. I love my wife. I am blessed with love that, like Bella and Edward, I feel I don't deserve. I'm lucky in ways I don't understand.

For this moment of clarity, this tiny minute of joy among millions I get to spend with my true love, I say thank you, Stephenie, for writing your books and helping a middle-aged guy celebrate once-in-a-lifetime love discovered 20 years ago.

And yes, I still don't like Jacob. Put a shirt on, kid.