Someone please call the authorities, and do it quickly!
What's the problem, you ask? Well, my home has been invaded by a vampire, and he has taken possession of everyone else in the house and he's making me look bad.
It all started rather innocently last spring. I was at the bus stop on morning with my older daughter when she asked me, completely out of the blue: "Do you think you could take me to Forks someday?"
My first instinct, having endured living in that lonely outpost for several years in the 1980s, was to shoot back, "What in the world do you want to go there for?"
Turns out, Forks happens to be the setting for the best series of novels in the history of mankind which are referred to by those on the inside as "Twilight." Or so my daughter tells me. And she should know, not that she's ever read Steinbeck or Twain.
She wanted to visit Forks because it is part of the story. The books tell the tale of a young girl named Bella and her love for young man named Edward. They happen to live in Forks because its a good environment for Edward. Because, you see, Edward is a vampire.
He's the perfect man, and this seems to be what makes him soooo attractive to the women of this world. He's certainly different from the rest of us men. Compared to Edward, we're a bunch of beer-swilling Neanderthals who spend all our time watching sports on television. We have to be nagged incessantly about mowing the lawn. And what about the garbage I asked you to take out three minutes ago? This is the kind of stuff Edward would have handled.
Apparently Bella's love for him is based on his devotion to her, his watchfulness, his politeness, his commitment to her safety and well-being. It's his all-consuming focus on … her. And he's apparently a very rich and dashing fellow to boot.
"Twilight" is rapidly turning into the biggest literary phenomenon this side of Harry Potter. Having read and thoroughly enjoyed the entire saga of witches and warlocks both good and bad, I thought I'd give one of the "Twilight" books a go.
About 20 pages in, I started to get the idea that this was a girl's book. Further on, I stopped because it was beginning to feel I wasn't quite welcome. It was a good story full of danger and adventure, a bit of a bodice ripper with one strange difference: All the undergarments stay on until well into the last book of the series.
I endured both a day trip to Forks and a very strange outing to Seattle for an appearance by the esteemed authoress of these books, a highly engaging young lady by the name of Stephenie Meyer. It was a strange encounter, to be sure.
Picture Benaroya Hall packed to the rafters with women and girls (and about five men, one of them me). The lady appears, and there commences a level of screaming not heard since John, Paul, George and Ringo played Shea Stadium. What is up with this?
Attention, lads: I think we're in trouble if this is what we're up against. Beer and football can't compete with love and vampires. But why?
I think I might have an answer. Edward isn't the object of every American female's desire because he has money or good looks. This seems to be about Edward's esteem for Bella. It is within his power to do whatever he wants to her, up to and including having his way with her, but he declines because he loves her enough not to.
Maybe the men reading this already understand this, but the seeming insanity of the "Twilight" phenomenon, and the effect it has on the women of this world, proves it. Women want companionship, comfort and security, but the big thing they really want is to be at the top of your list.
When it comes to a decision between her and something else, it can't be liquid refreshment and a large screen. It's got be her.
John Humen, a software developer and University Place resident, is one of six reader columnists whose work appears on this page.
