Not the obvious one. Even the illegal immigrants from Jupiter have read, seen or heard about Twilight.
There have been volumes written about the mystique of Edward Cullen — why he makes women crazy in ways that perhaps no male, real or fictional, has done save for the blinding presence of Elvis Presley.
What woman wouldn’t swoon at the thought of an old-fashioned romantic with good manners and diction? Or wouldn’t want to be adored so fervently that her boyfriend watches her sleep because she fascinates him? Men roll their eyes when women gush about “my Edward.”
(Yes, we call him that.)
On the other side of the cemetery fence, there has been much psychologizing about the potential societal damage of idealizing an obsessed, over-protective, control freak of a boyfriend, and how that might skew the minds of young females in the wrong direction. There is merit in this argument, because when you look at it objectively, Edward and Bella’s relationship is a little bit creepy. But let’s put that aside to get to the root of something very important, shall we?
Given my metier, I see Edward Cullen in a slightly different light, so to me, the secret of his appeal is quite simple, really:
Bella is edible to him — and he never lets her forget it.
I have advised many a female friend to smell delicious — so much so that a man cannot keep from nibbling on her neck. And given the neck’s prominence as one of the most sensitive erogenous zones in the body, there is no wonder that vampires have such sensual appeal. But Edward takes it to a whole new level. In Bella’s case, her scent is that perfect combination of pheromones and whatever else it is that attracts him helplessly to her. She is, quite literally, Edward’s sex on a plate.
But it is in the way he titillates them both with that knowledge, and keeps the meal itself just out of reach for both of them, that drives her (and me) mental with desire.
Edward’s moments of pure sensual indulgence leave me in a state of heady, wanton lust. As a vampire his senses are exponentially more potent, so I can only imagine what it must feel like for him to run his lips along the edge of her jaw, breathing in her bouquet as he gently caresses her neck and collarbones. He compares it to appreciating the aromatics of a fine wine.
I know it must be good for her, because the very notion leaves me breathless. But why is it so heady?
Because there is danger just on the other side of it. At any moment he could completely lose control and have her for lunch.
He drives them both just to the edge, then backs off, heightening the tension just a bit more each time. This is what any good lovemaking session — and any good meal — strives to achieve. Then the climax is, well, you’ll have to read the books.
My point is that Edward’s deliciousness, at least in my eyes, is his ability to savor the pleasures of his senses, and to tease them in ways that make life with his beloved a delicious test of will. He figuratively, literally and in all other possible ways, wants to devour her. Believe me when I tell you that every woman wants that.
In the case of Edward it is a dangerous game, yes, but oh, the pleasure…