At least Angel, Anita Blake's vampires, Sookie Stackhouse, and most of the rest of them have a lot of sex. But Edward Cullen, immortal star of the Twilight books, does not have sex. Edward tells Bella, his human paramour, that they need to wait until they're married before doing the deed. In the meantime, he's fascinated by her, beguiled by her, he can't stay away from her--but he can't touch her. Instead, he lies next to her in bed and moons over her as she sleeps. Leaving aside the fact that he's a 90-year-old man, this is what stalkers do, not boyfriends.Twilight is a great example of what is wrong with the emotional pornography that women scoop up as readily as men consume sexual pornography. It works on two levels because it denies the essence of what a vampire is relative to humans, and what men and women are relative to one another. That dueling absurdity feeds on itself, since you have a creature, Edward, who is categorically the opposite of his nature and who damn near exists to serve as some archetype of what it means to reduce a person from an end unto themselves to a means to someone else's end. If Edward were true to his nature, he would likely reduce Bella to both a cumdumpster and a midnight meal, as that would be befitting the essence of a creature designed to feed and prey on humans.
Just as America's young men are being given deeply erroneous ideas about sex by what they watch on the Web, so, too, are America's young women receiving troubling misinformation about the male of the species from Twilight. These women are going to be shocked when the sensitive, emotionally available, poetry-writing boys of their dreams expect a bit more from a sleepover than dew-eyed gazes and chaste hugs. The young man, having been schooled in love online, will be expecting extreme bondage and a lesbian three-way.
The evolution of the vampire and werewolf from creatures which blatantly sit above humanity on the food chain and hunt us like cattle, to safe and nurturing lovers should have been the first obvious clue that a lot of this modern "horror" fiction is just pornographic content in a respectable wrapping. It is no less idealized than the stereotyped female porn star who is physical perfect and pleasured by everything a man does to her, and who has no emotional needs of their own afterward. We all accept that that is ludicrous, but the idea that a creature that hunts and feeds on humans getting turned into a safe, doe-eyed, asexual companion is greeted with far less controversy.
At any rate, I don't lament the growing dichotomy of expectations. It may yet prove to be a point of return because at some point, it'll force us to confront the absurdity of our assumptions about the opposite sex. What better time than when we finally have to face up to the fact that so many of our dreams and ideas about the other are, in fact, just fantastical bullshit?