NOT Team Edward

The night after I hung up on J, my mom and I sat down to watch Twilight with my thirteen year old daughter. 

Teen-angst romances make me uncomfortable, and the fact that my little girl is old enough to read them (let alone watch them!) make me even more so. I'd agreed to let her see it as long as I watched it with her-- so I could point out all the parts I felt were inappropriate, unrealistic, or just plain unwise. Basically, my definition of good mothering is making sure I'm a killjoy. ;) 

She conceded, so we gathered treats and settled in for a girls night. 

Fairly early in the film, there's a scene where super-mopey-and-mysteriously-strong-Edward saves Bella's life by stopping a car from crushing her with his bare hands. Bella turns to him and asks, "How did you get to me so quickly? You were clear across the parking lot!" He calmly lies, looking in to her eyes and saying, "No I wasn't. I was standing right next to you the whole time. You must have hit your head harder than we thought."

Though he was just a stupid, fictional character, his words made me feel like I'd been doused with a bucket of ice water. My heart began to race, my mouth went dry, and my hands became shaky and numb. 

I hated Edward in that moment. 

He was doing something I was all too familiar with-- blatantly denying the truth and manipulating the situation so that the blame rested squarely on his victim. He was justifying his actions behind a veil of love and protection, but in actuality he was selfish and weak, not trusting Bella to have the sense to make decisions for herself. 

"He's controlling and emotionally abusive," I warned my daughter. "If someone really loves you, they don't lie to you."

My stomach was in knots. In a distant corner of my brain, I knew I was just triggered and feeling trauma, but I kept hearing "emotionally abusive" echoing around in my head. I don't know if I was overreacting, or if I was simply seeing things differently because I was imagining my daughter in my place, but finally I began to acknowledge to myself that the things J had been doing to me, saying to me, and asking of me all these years was wrong. Addiction did not excuse his behavior. 

I turned to my daughter, dead serious, and said, "If you ever meet a boy who acts like he owns you the way Edward acts like he owns Bella, you RUN."

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