I didn’t begin reading the Twilight series until just before the first movie was released. As an English teacher, I’d already spent a couple of years watching my 8th graders lug around the heavy novels. The girls were always nose-deep in the glossy, black bricks made of pages. Occasionally, I’d catch one of them have a girlie-girl reaction to something they’d read – a quick gasp and a flutter of fingers to cover a shocked-open mouth, or maybe a palm placed dramatically on the chest, as if to hold in a wildly-beating heart.

“Silly girls,” I’d think to myself. “Some vampire dude is watching a girl as she sleeps and is torn between loving her and killing her? That’s not a boyfriend. That’s a flippin’ stalker.”

But as fervor over the movie’s release built, I finally gave in and picked up the first two Twilight paperbacks to read, just to see what all the fuss was about. And OMGSRSLY – I was hooked.

I enjoyed the first book, but it was the second book – New Moon – which really pulled me in. I am all the way Team Jacob, because I found that I identified closely with his ache of unrequited love.

The Twilight series took me right back to those fumbly, tumultuous feelings of first loves and first heartbreaks, of tears and first kisses. In spite of myself, I found myself clutching my heart and heaving deep sighs of teenage lovesick angst. Been there, done that.

Recently, a student who I know but don’t teach was bawling at her locker. Alarmed, I concernedly asked what was wrong. One of the three friends hesitated, then mouthed Her boyfriend just broke up with her, so as not to upset her further by saying the words aloud.

I’ll be honest; my knee-jerk reaction was to do a mental eye-roll and think, “That’s all? Guuuurlfriend, you’re like, 14. Crying this hard over a boy at this stage in your life is a bit much, isn’t it?” But then, it occurred to me that I was 14 when I experienced my first heartbreak. THE WORLD. WAS ENDING. I wasn’t a crier, but I distinctly remember walking around in a blue fog for weeks, unable to think of much more than my trampled heart.

Those reminiscent thoughts teased the corners of my mouth into a gentle, understanding smile. I patted her on the back and said, “I know it hurts. You feel like crap now, but trust me – you’ll grow stronger on the other side of it.”

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Last night, I went to the long-awaited midnight premiere of Breaking Dawn. I totally did not squeal or cry or flap my hands excitedly. Well, not much, anyway.

Word.

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Along with the Twilight love there has always been a soft, squishy spot for vampires like Angel and Spike.

I never figured out why.

So, while I’m enjoying all this vampire splendor, a crop of look-alike books pop up all over the place. Vampires who sing. Vampires who are born in another era. Vampires who like gumdrops.

Cause, REALLY?  Who, dead or alive, doesn’t like an occasional gumdrop?

In an effort to capitalize on the romantic side of the supernatural, we also got werewolves, ghosts and zombies.

I have an issue with ZOMBIES as the romantic lead.

They don’t have strong communication skills.

There’s that whole smells-like-a-rotting-corpse thing.

Then the mindless-eating-of-your-brains is usually a dating downer.

But just in case you’re determined to make your love work, watch this first.

I’ll make sure to get something nice from your Crate and Barrel registry.

Lestat, who was beautiful and cruel.

Lestat, who tried his best to teach Louis that they were separate, different, and wholly superior.

Lestat, who was sexually ambiguous, barely gender conscious, and taught us that ruffled shirts and stockings can look good on anyone who has the confidence to put them on in the first place.

I loved Lestat, and I still love him.  But, not like you think.  Not the way that people love vampires, now.

It was his capacity for cruelty, his total acceptance of himself, and his total ownership of the fact that he was simply a very fashionable and attractive monster who ate people that made me admire and revere him wholly and completely as figure of literature.  It was that he was something else.  Something different than me or anyone that I knew that made him so incredibly awesome.

And, yeah, I loved him even though HE DID NOT HAVE A HUMAN TEENAGE GIRLFRIEND.  Dare I say that I loved him because he did not have a human teenage girlfriend.

Let me tell you something, if there were a knock down, drag out cage fight of literary vampires, my money would be on Lestat every.single.time, and so should yours.  I know most of you are going to hate me for saying this, but you know and I know that weenie Edward Cullen would be cowering in the corner like a little bitch before the referee even rang the damned bell.  Edward Cullen?  Is the Ken doll of vampire literary fiction.  I don’t care if he’s the first one that actually got to “do it” with a chick.  Because “doing it” with Bella doesn’t make you a vampire.  In fact, it makes you a creepy 100 year old dude that digs sixteen year old chicks.  Ew.

And then she says in her old lady voice, I remember when vampires were vampires and inappropriate boyfriend choices were inappropriate boyfriend choices and never the ‘twain shall meet… ah, those were the days…

I mourn for the vampire of 21st century literature who has been relegated to a sad, unassuming punching bag for young women wanting to work out abandonment and daddy issues.  Or worse, for the mythic god-like figure who has now become a little sock puppet for suburban moms who want to play out an alternate plot line of their own lives that rests upon mentally reconstructing  “what-ifs” solely aimed at arriving upon the obvious answer that the sensible guy they married was, in fact, the correct choice.

I remember when the vampire was an austere “other” figure that existed simply for us to work out the high minded pursuit of dissecting the existential nature of our lives and the uncovering age old questions of “What is good?” and “what is evil?”

Or, more importantly, “Do prostitutes actually taste different than babies?”

Damn, I miss that vampire.

Somebody bring that guy back from the undead.