Sex & Celluloid: What The Hell Is Wrong With Robert Pattinson?
I’m sorry; I didn’t see “New Moon.” I’m not even one of those too-cool-for-“Twilight” hipsters or anything, in fact, I read the first book in Stephenie Meyers’ Twilight series, saw the first movie, and actually thought, Wow I love vampires and they are attractive and I would like to have sex with them. But then I remembered I could just go watch “True Blood,” which is an equally guilty pleasure, but has a lot more grave-sex and, well, sex in general (thanks HBO!). But just to reiterate: I’m not anti-“Twilight,” and if someone asked me I would probably put myself on Team Edward, even though I might feel some underlying white guilt since, as far as I can tell, “New Moon” is a loose interpretation of the story of the original Pilgrims, what with the Native American werewolves fighting the European clan of vampires and what-not. Just in time for Thanksgiving too! No, what I really want to discuss today is Robert Pattinson. He fascinates me, and not in a TwilightMom, “OMG I love you Edward!” way. More like the way I’m fascinated with Howard Hughes, the movie director and aviator with extreme OCD, whose obsession with hygiene ironically lead to him looking gross, thanks to long hair and fingernails and sequestering himself away and what-not. I’m pretty sure RPatz (and God smite whoever gave the poor boy that nickname in the blogosphere) has whatever Howard Hughes had, or else his celebrity status has literally driven him insane. I mean, it’s one thing to be a publicly dismissive of your fans (even though they’re the ones paying your checks, buddy-boy), especially if you have such a creepily rabid fan base that there is a market for underwear with your face on it. But Robert Pattinson has stopped bathing so people will leave him alone. He has a legitimate fear of getting AIDS from some hypothetical scenario where a fan asks him to suck their open wounds. What? Leaving aside the craziness that would involve Robert actually having to bite someone to get their blood in his mouth, extreme mysophobia is one of those red flags that indicates someone might be building a bomb shelter in their basement and covering the walls with tinfoil.
Then again, just because you’re crazy doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you: Pattinson does have some of the craziest fans in the universe and routinely complains that he can’t get a date because everyone sees him as Edward, not Robert. Of course, that’s just a smokescreen for his very real and not totally tabloid-created relationship with costar and chronic lip-biter Kristen Stewart. Luckily, Kristen comes off as an ice-cold robot in most interviews, leaving her sterile enough to not infect Robert with all those tiny bacteria that crawl on human skins … Oh God, get it off, get it off get it off … !