It was a cold, November evening the night I fell in love.
It's one of those moments that you remember forever. What you were wearing. How things smelled. Time felt like it stood still and everything was just for us.
Just to be sure we're all on the same page, I am definitely talking about reading Twilight for the first time and falling in love with Edward. DO NOT act so surprised. This "intro" was entirely within normal limits for me. And, for the record, so you don't go through this again, I also fell in love with Chuck in November (different year) but that was because he brought me chicken soup not because he sparkled.
Anyhooooo. So much of the past few years have been spent loving Edward and Twilight. I knew we couldn't last forever at this rate - even though that was my hopeful plan.
I super cheated on him in December.
I mean cheated big time. As in, I haven't even considered when to buy the Breaking Dawn DVD because I've been too busy youtubing videos of my current mister (I believe that's the male equivalent of a mistress - right?).
I love The Hunger Games.
We fell in love in December on a hot, dry beach in the Bahamas with a cruise ship anchored in the background (and Chuck capsizing a catamaran that thank god I decided not to go on - but that's a whole other story). It was completely different than how Twilight and I met.
I had kind of expected Twilight to be the only "young adult" tryst in my life. I had kind of assumed that Twilight was my only "foray" into the juvenile section of Barnes and Nobles. Obviously, I had never met myself and my reading level OR my love of jumping on a good Band Wagon. I would jump off a cliff as long as there was a seventh grade book series at the bottom.
I died for The Hunger Games and read it in one day at the beach, in line getting back on the ship, and ignoring Chuck before dinner.
But oh oh. That's not where this stops.
See, Twilight was all about me. I read it. I loved it. I pretty much didn't talk to Chuck for weeks. The Hunger Games was a little different.
Because Chuck became equally as obsessed. He picked up the first book as I was buying the second in the Miami airport on Christmas Eve. By the time we made it to LA, Chuck had finished one, I had finished two and we were buying book three on Amazon. We read each book in a day. We have very little going on in our lives.
Once Book Three arrived, we almost divorced over who got to read it first (I won since that's how things work) and I read it that day. Chuck read it all the next day, popping Excedrin Migraine to make the headache from eye fatigue go away.
Here is Chuck mid book three:
Unshowered. Wrapped in a pink blanket a first grader made for me and completely unaware that I was taking a picture of him. This is about 3 pm, about four days after Christmas. He's five hours in with three or four to go. My husband. Sigh.
Ok so I completely cheated on Edward and fell in love with a new book series. I still love Twilight, trust me - I'm about due for a re-read - but The Hunger Games has been completely different because Chuck is equally psycho-obsessed with them too. Do I see him running around Seattle with Peeta and Katniss cardboard cut outs taking pictures for the Oprah show (that happened here)? No. But that's just because Chuck has always handled his emotions better than I have.
Basically, cheating on one love gave me something to love with Chuck (and Fe and PK who subsequently read and loved the series) so I guess the infidelity was worth it. It's also kind of nice to have family understand and welcome the obsession, rather than "The Looks" I got with Twilight. That might have been because some people in that book sparkled, but I don't see how that's worse than a fight to the death between children.
But there you go. Day seven: I love The Hunger Games.