Valentine’s day. Yeah, yeah, I know I’m late. But that is what happens when you get stuck in four and a half hours of school meetings the night before- suddenly you don’t feel like celebrating love. Quite the opposite in fact. Of course, one could take poor old St. Val’s martyrdom and our sadistic/masochist need to mark the occasion another way- we could call it officially Gruesome Death Day. Hallmark would have to come out with a whole new series cards of the occasion. Happy defenestration and disembowlement! Hope you weren’t attached to that limb!
See what school meetings do to me? But I digress…
Valentine’s day. Love and all that… I have that you know. I have a love. And in fact, the universe’s devilish randomness conspired to make February 14th the day where this love of mine officially began….what? dating? The word dating is all wrong. Basically we drew up a contract which stated that if you agree to kiss me now, I will accept to remain faithful until such time as I am not. Luckily that such time has never occurred (to my knowledge- how I am tempting fate) and thirteen years later here we are, wondering how we got here. Romantic hey? That’s me.
Again I digress. Why don’t I just spit it out. I have been thinking of love and romance for quite a diffrent reason these days. Steeped in childhood literature that I am, it is understandably rare that I come across anything, well, sexy in my reading. This changed recently when I picked up a popular novel for teenagers (just to see what the youngsters were reading these days- it is my sworn duty as a youth librarian you know) called Twilight by Stephenie Meyer.
Remember Anne Rice? How sexy her vampires were? Well, Meyer’s vampires can go out during the day and they actually sparkle like disco balls in the sunlight! And they are sexy and love ordinary teenage girls (and not only in the “I vant to suck your blood kind of way” either.) As I stayed up way too late to finish reading this book, I wondered what the hell I was doing. Here I am, mother of two, heading towards my mid-thirties, sacrificing the few precious hours of sleep I can afford on a novel that, well, let’s just say it won’t win any major literary prizes. In fact, a lot of the time, the dialogue drove me crazy. But I still couldn’t put it down. Why? Why is that? Because it was sexy. This is a very disturbing thought for me. I am not the emotional type. I have no illusions about sexiness or lack thereof and don’t lose much sleep about it. I have never sought sexiness in my movies and books and in fact feel a little voyeuristic when I do come across it. I always wear sensible shoes for christ’s sake! So why has this book thrown me for a loop?
Well, I haven’t the slightest idea why. But I almost got down on my knees and poured libations to the library god when I saw the sequel on the shelf…
So Happy belated Saint Valentine’s day and may your love be a beautiful, blood thirsty, hundred year old vampire. ‘Cause, be honest. Isn’t that what we all want?
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