I don’t quite get Twilight. I’m not proud of it. I’m not trying to convince anyone how cool I am because I’m more evolved than the mass of fans (including more than a few gay ones) wetting themselves in anticipation of the next movie.
The meat selection is entirely decent. Robert Pattinson (painted on abs or not), is a looker. Someone needs to either give him a serious haircut or throw him around by a couple fistfuls of those locks before power slamming him to a wrestling mat (frankly, either option is okay with me), but still, he’s clearly got the hot-if-perhaps-overexposed factor.
Taylor Lautner tips the scales in at gorgeous. His eagerness to display his ever-increasing bulges is sexy, in that way that screams for someone to lay a beat down on him and torture him in the ropes until he screams “I give.”
Kellan Lutz also clearly has all the pieces lined up nicely. Pretty, round pecs and full lips can’t steer you too wrong. And it’s a vampire and werewolf storyline, for God’s sake! I get weak in the knees when I see Alexander Skarsgård’s fangs pop out in True Blood, and Russell Tovey stripping off his shirt just before he does it doggy-style quite literally makes me salivate.
But I just can’t get myself to be seriously into Twilight. John Savage has the Twilight boys mixing it up in the ring in his Arena Island Celebrity Wrestling group, and those matches are hands down hot. But I just can’t generate any genuine passion for the boys of Twilight.
I’m happy to have more shirtless, hottie hunks coming up the ranks as media darlings. Perhaps someday I’ll catch the Twilight bug and awake from this malaise. But for now, for me, I’m leaving the dudes of Forks to the pre-teen girls (and to you). You can enjoy my share.
Sidelineland 