The bite didn't break Westrate's skin, but not surprisingly, the dude freaked her right out -- and that wasn't even the end of it. The man also followed her to the parking lot and watched her get in her car to drive away. In an interview with her local ABC affiliate (video below), Westrate said, "He was just, like, smiling at me -- it was so creepy, it wasn't even funny. That's not right. I know that's not right." 

Police are now looking for the creep, who faces assault charges. 

 

All right, I'll officially say that's a good thing. And now Sady Doyle, occasional Broadsheet contributor and blogmistress of the fabulously named Tiger Beatdown, has gone and given me yet another feminist angle on "Twilight" to consider. ("Twilight" is officially the new Sarah Palin: I hate everything it stands for, but since so much of the reaction to it is sexist, I keep feeling compelled to defend it. Sigh.)

Doyle admits to a fondness for Robert Pattinson, who plays vampire Edward Cullen in the series, although she does not admit it's partly because he's hot. Other than that, she covers the reasons why I, too, am fond of the surprisingly candid and self-aware young star -- "Robert Pattinson talks shit about the projects he is in. Robert Pattinson is honest about the fact that he is not the best actor" -- with a bonus articulation of something I'd never considered: "And Robert Pattinson's main source of employment is facilitating his own objectification, which he does, but also complains about all the time. Robert Pattinson is... Megan Fox, basically!

That Fox/Pattz comparison is so apt, Sady's not even the only ladyblogger in my Google reader who made it today. And the difference in our reaction to each of those actors' being subjected to an audience's lustful gaze says a lot about who's meant to be looked at and who's meant to be listened to in this culture. "People outside the superfan matrix don't tend to have strong feelings about The Pattz," she writes, "but they do tend to get all squirmy and giggly and uncomfortable with the way that so many women relate to his filmed image (for example, by screen-printing it on their underpants) and/or his person." All that raw, ridiculous, pointless lust is just so unseemly. And when The Pattz speaks in interviews about how strange and oppressive it is to be the object of a million fangirl fantasies, or how awful his character is ("the more I read the script, the more I hated this guy"), those of us outside the superfan matrix like him more for it. That poor guy! He can't go anywhere! People expect him to be something he's not, just because he's good-looking and plays such a one-dimensional character, desperate people can project whatever they want onto him. Isn't that sad? But that whiny, stupid Fox girl, on the other hand -- where does she get off complaining about getting paid to look hot? "We have no problem with objectifying Megan Fox," says Doyle. "We just have a problem with everything she says, and specifically the things she says wherein she takes issue with being objectified. We just hate her."

Much like we hate those women buying Edward Cullen underpants (among other products) and making Robert Pattinson's life difficult. "Because those women are acting in a way that is typically reserved for men. And they're treating Pattinson like a girl." The objectification of women in pop culture, writes Doyle, is both so common as to go unnoticed and inevitably "tacky as all hell, aesthetically."

[A]nd so criticizing it, in an aesthetic way, seems pointless. Congratulations, you went looking for art in a product intended to provide boners and came up empty. Surprise! But when girls do the exact same thing -- when they prove themselves capable of the exact same sort of objectification, and the exact same goofiness or tackiness or unrealistic fantasy in the name of getting off -- well, it freaks people out. It's weird. Why are they acting like this? Don't they know that Robert Pattinson is a person? Why are they treating him like a big chunk of meat? Why doesn't Edward Cullen act like a real guy would? Etcetera!

Let me be clear: I think those are all perfectly reasonable questions. It's just that I think they're perfectly reasonable questions to ask about the objectification of Megan Fox, and every other Action Movie Girlfriend in history, as well. Treating a man just as poorly as women have long been treated in films made for young male audiences is not the kind of gender equality that gives me hope for the future. But thinking critically about why folks become so offended when they see that happening might, in fact, lead to a bit of progress. Why is it so unsettling to see a young male actor dehumanized, but not his female counterpart? Why do we sympathize with a man saying it's hard to be nothing but a pretty face, but vilify a woman who says it? Whether or not you can answer those questions, if you can at least spot the difference, you are obliged to do one of two things. In Doyle's words: "Be less weirded out by the fact that ladies are getting all freaky about Robert Pattinson. Or be MORE weirded out by the dudes getting all het up about various lady movie stars."

For now, I'd recommend both. Ultimately, I'd love to see more movies made for all audiences that go beyond a cheap appeal to our basest fantasies; recognizing and resisting objectification of anyone in pop culture is a goal dear to my heart. But it would also be nice if, in the meantime, people recognized that women and teenaged girls have our own base fantasies, and quit acting like it's headline news that we have real human libidos, which are sometimes activated by pretty young things who stand around doing very little in blockbuster movies. Just as surely as "New Moon" has proven that catering to a female audience can be as lucrative as catering to young men, it's proven that one-dimensional sex objects can sell to lady audiences as well. So, while it may not get beyond one obnoxious stereotype of female desire -- violent, overprotective dudes get us hot! -- at least it busts the myth that there's no such thing.

 

In fact, the advance sales have been so overwhelming that MovieTickets.com and Summit Entertainment, the studio behind the film, stopped reporting sales data earlier this week, for fear of losing customers who assume there's no point in even trying to get into a showing of "New Moon" this weekend. Says NYT ArtsBeat blog, "It could dent the opening-weekend gross if consumers mistakenly think that no tickets are available. At a certain point, average moviegoers might skip the multiplex altogether if they think 'Twilight' hoopla has grown too insane."

I hate to break it to nervous studio execs, but that ship has sailed. "Twilight" hoopla has been bonkers for years, and the "New Moon"-specific hoopla is really only noteworthy for being even more so. The L.A. Times article notes that "more than a week before its release, the film sold more than four times as many tickets as the original 'Twilight' at MovieTickets.com at the same point in the sales cycle." And it's not just teenage girls driving the frenzy; MovieTickets.com's latest data said 27 percent of the buyers were women between 25 and 34 -- the slightly embarrassed but no less addicted demographic Sarah Hepola reported on for Salon earlier this week.

Another 35 percent are women under 25, though, and altogether, 87 percent of advance ticket holders are female. That's no surprise, but a majority-female audience breaking sales records left and right certainly is. "Let's just think about that," wrote Melissa Silverstein at her blog Women & Hollywood last week. "A franchise fueled by girls and women has the potential of beating the machines for the box office record. This movie could potentially be 'guy proof' meaning they won't need guys to see it for it to kick some box office butt. Whereas the other franchises NEED women to make their numbers."

Having seen the first movie and read the first two books before officially determining that neither the lols nor the thought of blogging furiously about the wildly popular series' gender messages held my interest enough to continue, I never imagined I'd find a reason to see the "Twilight" phenomenon as a potential triumph for women. In the books, at least -- far more than in the first movie -- heroine Bella is spineless and infantilized, while dreamboat vamp Edward is stalky and emotionally abusive. The thought of the effect those characterizations might have on young girls who see it as a depiction of "true love" pained me. But Silverstein makes a great point: What about the effect the "Twilight" saga's success might have on Hollywood's confidence in female-oriented films?

"New Moon finally give us an apple to apples comparison with other types of fan-driven films," she told me in an e-mail. "The biggest films in Hollywood are the ones that come out of comic books, toys and books. Starting last year with 'Sex and the City,' 'Mamma Mia' (and both those can be dismissed because the targeted audience was older), but now with the two 'Twilight' films, it shows that female filmgoers can be as rabid in their fandom as male." The question is, will the powers that be recognize young women as a robust market that's been largely ignored and condescended to, or will they write it off as a limited phenomenon? "Studios should look at this as a golden opportunity and not a fluke!" writes Silverstein. But tapping into the passions of young female audiences means "working to try and uncover things that are bubbling in fandom and even trying to come up with exciting ideas to engage the audience," not just waiting around for the next runaway bestseller.

It might also mean sticking with what works, especially when it's a female director who's demonstrated a knack for understanding teenage girls. Unfortunately, Catherine Hardwicke, director of "Twilight," was replaced by Chris Weitz for the second installment, despite the first film's having grossed $383.6 million worldwide -- and the series seems to have suffered for it artistically, if not financially. Salon's Stephanie Zacharek enjoyed Hardwicke's movie as an "unapologetic, unembarrassed foray into teen-heartthrob territory, hitting the sweet spot where pop culture, teenage curiosity about sex, and vampire lore meet," but says Weitz's "offers few of the juicy, go-for-broke romantic pleasures of its predecessor." 

Zacharek's not alone in her disappointment. Granted, popular teen-oriented franchises hardly need critical acclaim to succeed, and the first film only earned 49 percent positive reviews at Rotten Tomatoes -- but contrast that with the 30 percent rating "New Moon" has. Positive word of mouth may be no more than the icing on the cake for such a big movie, but it's nevertheless likely to be absent this time, even though Weitz had far more money and momentum going into the project. Says Silverstein, who saw an advance screening, "I think they really miscalculated in not keeping Hardwicke. The budget for this film was $50 million up from I believe $39 for the first one and one of the things that the studio and Hardwicke were fighting about was budget. She really seems to know how to tap into the teen spirit and that was missed here. She just knows how to elicit emotions from young people. It's her thing, and that's what worked best in the first movie and worst in this movie."

So even if the studios do learn something about the power of female audiences from the "Twilight" saga, they seem to have ignored any lessons the first film offered about the capabilities of a female director. Nevertheless, Silverstein is optimistic about "New Moon's" potential to improve women's lot in Hollywood across the board -- as long as executives recognize its tremendous appeal as more than a fluke. "Hopefully, this success will infiltrate the minds of Hollywood number crunchers and seek out products for the female audience," she says. "If people start thinking and making more movies that star women and are women driven, it can only help women at all levels of the business." 

But there's a cloud over this "New Moon," and it's a big one. Hardwicke (who'd previously made the overwrought cautionary teen drama "Thirteen") was originally signed on to direct this installment; she was fired early on and replaced by Chris Weitz, a director with a varied list of credits, "About a Boy" and "The Golden Compass" among them -- he also co-directed "American Pie" with his brother, Paul Weitz. (Melissa Rosenberg has written the screenplays for both pictures.) "New Moon" features the same cast as the first movie. And the "Twilight" books have proved so frighteningly popular to begin with that the studio, Summit Entertainment, probably figured it could resurrect Ed Wood from the grave and still get a hit. How much difference could switching directors make?

Although it's hard to answer that question definitively, "New Moon" offers few of the juicy, go-for-broke romantic pleasures of its predecessor, and the movie is so badly shaped that it's hard not to blame Weitz as a director. Kristen Stewart returns as Bella, the high-school student who's been smitten but not bitten: Her boyfriend and true love is 109-year-old Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson), part of a wandering vampire family that has taken up residence in her Pacific Northwest town. Bella has just turned 18, and after some convoluted and confusing dribble-drabble about Bella's not being "good" for him, Edward decides to leave her in order to protect her -- whatever that means. Before vanishing, he warns her not to take unnecessary risks.

Depressed Bella responds by spending October, November and December staring, quite literally, out of her bedroom window. When she finally does go out, she imperils herself by getting onto a motorcycle with a local goon, and Edward's face appears before her, a shimmery vision, warning her of the danger. Seeing a window of opportunity here, she collects a bunch of old motorcycles and asks her friend, the sweet, caring, good-with-his-hands Native American Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner) to help her fix them up. Bella's motives aren't completely clear -- she seems to have a bit of the thrill seeker in her, anyway -- but the suggestion is that if she saddles a rebuilt two-wheeled death machine and rides it really fast, perhaps she'll get to see more of these smudges of Edward.

Jacob, of course, has a mad crush on Bella. And as the two of them tinker with their junkyard toys, Bella comes to realize she likes him too. The complication, as was pretty much revealed in the first movie, is that Jacob is soon to be part of a tribal werewolf pack -- except, when these guys aren't werewolves, they're running around the landscape in bare chests and cutoff pants, scowling and growling at one another and at everybody else. Jacob can't resist the clan of the shirtless -- it's in his blood -- and so he joins their grumpy number, in the process changing from a cheerful, caring, open-faced kid to a sullen, pissed-off J.D.

One with giant, rounded biceps and Hulk-style pecs, I might add. And that's just the beginning of the problems with "New Moon." Bella's eyes pop when she gets a load of that chest, and she gets to see a lot of it, as we do. Forget that wan Victorian valentine Edward -- the movie only wants to hammer on the notion that women feel conflicted between sensitive, skinny pale guys who'll protect them with their mad vampire skilz and brawny bruisers who'll protect them with muscle, either the wolf or the human kind.

In the "New Moon" world, there's no in between. These movies, and the books they're based on, are all about veiled sexuality, with all its thrills and threats: There's no sex in these pictures, only the vague, gauzy promise of it -- predicated on the way young girls often dream of being swept off their feet by a handsome, laconic hunk but don't want to think about what might come after.

But the problem isn't that "New Moon" takes an uncomplicated view of sex; it's that it doesn't even bother to take a romantic view of romance. Weitz appears to have paid no attention to pacing here: The movie is essentially a string of brooding speeches, often delivered in the woods, with very little interesting connective tissue in between. The dialogue consists of numerous variations on two lines, the first being "I love you, but I'm a vampire, and I can't protect you," the second, "I love you, but I'm a werewolf, and I can't protect you." The proceedings perk up a bit in the later scenes, set in a mysterious Vatican-type place in Italy: There, Michael Sheen holds court in silly priest's robes, and powerful vampire temptress Dakota Fanning shoots daggers, figuratively speaking, with her eyes. But she's also wearing a tight upswept hairdo that makes her look a little like Cloris Leachman in "Young Frankenstein," and where's the romance in that?

The performers struggle along in their silly hairdos and bad makeup. (It's possible that the pale vampire makeup here is even worse than in the first picture; Sheen, in particular, looks as if he's wearing a thin coat of Queen Helene Mint Julep Masque.) Pattinson really needs only one expression to play the tortured Edward -- he lowers his eyes and peers out from beneath fringey eyelashes -- and he's mastered it. He's completely serviceable in terms of what he needs to do here, which is basically to wander around, to borrow a line from Keats, alone and palely loitering. Stewart is much better than she needs to be for this material: Even in the most emotionally heightened scenes, she intuitively eases up on the clutch -- miraculously, nothing she does feels overdone or overthought. Lautner is cute as the eager, playful, pre-wolf pack Jacob and numbingly dull as the supposedly sexier wolfen one.

Some of the effects are perfectly adequate: When those hot-pants tribal hoodlums finally turn into wolves, they're magnificent beasties with sturdy, prancing paws. But mostly, Weitz seems to think he can get away with trotting out the "greatest hits" moments from the first movie: Showing Edward drift through the high school parking lot in slow motion, like a teenage god crossed with a pop star; fixing the camera on Bella and Edward as he stares into her eyes and murmurs one version or another of his patented tortured-vampire speech. "Twilight" was a pleasant surprise, a dish of cream-heavy teen romance that had at least been made with a guiding sensibility behind it. "New Moon," on the other hand, merely follows a dictated formula. It's a cheap, shoddy piece of work, one that banks on moviegoers' anticipation without even bothering to craft a satisfying experience for them. Its pandering is an insult. "New Moon" moons its audience, and makes them pay for the so-called privilege.

But something shifted that stormy afternoon while she curled up in bed, her husband off at work. She watched the movie. Twice. And then she went to the store and bought the book. Actually, she bought the whole series.

"Addicts talk about losing time, and that's exactly what it was like. I would be driving to work late, thinking, how many hours just went by?"

Charlotte (who, like many of the women interviewed for this story, preferred to remain anonymous) wants you to know this is not typical behavior. "The books I buy are never the ones displayed two feet inside the store," she says. She's currently reading Nick Hornby's "Juliet, Naked." Her favorite movie is "Harold and Maude." She thinks the Replacements' Paul Westerberg hung the moon. And yet, she could not tear herself from a young-adult title charitably referred to as comfort food and eviscerated in one Psychology Today article as "covert lessons of feminine subjection, abjection, and erasure of self." Charlotte refers to her obsession, tongue firmly in cheek, as "the Indian summer of my adolescence." You could also call it the twilight of her youth.

It is common wisdom that girls are cracked out on "Twilight." "No other writer in recent memory has quite tapped into adolescent yearning and girlhood fantasies about being desired," Vanity Fair's Evgenia Peretz recently wrote of author Stephenie Meyer. But as "New Moon," the second installment in the four-part series, prepares its blitzkrieg on mulitplexes this Friday, the phenomenon is still largely discussed in terms of screaming, crush-stricken young girls, like the literary equivalent of the Backstreet Boys. "Twilight's" reach, it turns out, is far greater. You don't sell 70 million books and become the No. 1 DVD of 2009 courtesy of baby-sitting money alone.

Laura Miller wrote about the grown-up aspect of Twi-fandom way back in July of 2008, but since then, the market has exploded: In October, a Nordstrom employee complained that life-size cardboard cutouts of "Twilight" star Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner, his romantic rival Jacob, were being stolen -- by middle-aged ladies. OK! magazine, a tabloid geared toward adult women, has practically transformed into "Twilight" fan fiction, with no fewer than 22 covers of the past year devoted to the stormy relationship between K-Stew and R-Patz, as the on-screen couple is winkingly known. Etsy even offers jewelry for the discerning fan, like this pendant that reads, "Edward prefers cougars."

Last summer, it seemed as though every 30-something female I knew was reading "Twilight." And these were not literary middlebrows who consider Dan Brown the Shakespeare of our time. A 33-year-old magazine editor and frequent contributor to the New York Times Book Review lent me her copy. "You'll read it in a night," she said, plopping the massive 500-page tome in my hand. A 37-year-old Ph.D. candidate I know read the book after her dissertation chair recommended it. I saw it on the subway and on airplanes, on the bookshelves and desks of women my age, women just like me.

Part of this was mere cultural curiosity; who hasn't wondered what the hell is going on with Team Jacob and Team Edward, with the "Twilight" action figures, sex toys and slash fiction? Adults' diving into youth culture has little of its one-time stigma. In an essay for the Believer, Sam Lipsyte joked about the "the adult diapers of Harry Potter." How many audience members at "Where the Wild Things Are" wore hoodies and Converse sneakers? (And does that suggest they were 13, or 41?) Today's grown-ups are more comfortable than perhaps any previous generation holding on to the playthings of childhood. They own Wiis. They play Rock Band. They love Hello Kitty. There's a name for this: Kidults.

But there is something particularly profound about women long past their teen years bitten by "Twilight." The relationship can be intense. One acquaintance went so far as to say the book "made her believe in love again."

"This is what I call 'true love-ism,'" Laura Miller told me. "True love-ism is the secular religion of America, one that all of us can believe in. What's appealing about Edward is his certainty. He craves Bella monogamously. The book feeds the delusion that an erotic god could love you, and that he'd also be faithful." Miller sees the books as straight-ahead romance novels. In her 2008 review, she wrote, "Despite their gothic trappings [they] represent a resurrection of the most old-fashioned incarnation of the genre. They summon a world in which love is passionate, yet (relatively) chaste, girls need be nothing more than fetchingly vulnerable, and masterful men can be depended upon to protect and worship them for it."

Funny enough, none of the dozen or so women I spoke to for this story self-identified as a fan of romance novels  (a genre that is, indisputably, associated with women in their 30s, 40s and 50s). Kirsten Starkweather came to "Twilight" through a different obsession entirely -- a friend in her "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" fan group insisted she read it. Starkweather is a 40-year-old mother and wife who works part-time doing medical billing for a physical rehab agency from her home in the Fresno suburb of Clovis, Calif. -- "not the most exciting place to live," she admits. She bought "Twilight" reluctantly and let it linger on her shelf for months. But when she finally cracked it open, she describes the same magical time-loss as Charlotte. "I think I put it down when I finished it at 4 a.m.," she says. "By the time I had finished two chapters, I had ordered the next two books."

She was drawn in by the "fumbling first love," by the rupture caused when that love implodes. Like Bella, a child of divorce who cooks dinner every night for her father and emotionally manages her unstable mother, Kirsten was a caretaker, a mother of a 7-year-old who had also spent the past decade caring for her beloved grandmother, who had just passed away when Kirsten found the book.

Kirsten ventured online to find others like her. Instead she waded through "page after page of 13-year-old girls cooing over how hot Edward was," she says. "I didn't feel embarrassed so much as I felt alone." But then she found Twilight Moms.

You can't talk about adult "Twilight" fans without mentioning Twilight Moms, or Twi-Moms, as they are known. Many women I spoke with for this story defined their fandom according to their allegiance, or lack thereof, with Twi-Moms. ("I'm not one of those crazy Twilight Moms," one interviewee said. Whereas another bragged about opening her own local chapter.) Founded by Lisa Hansen, Twilight Moms has ballooned into a phenomenon in its own right, with a strong presence at Twilight conventions ("TwiCon," naturally). When Kirsten Starkweather joined in December 2007 she was the 86th member. There are now more than 37,000.

If the idea of "Twilight Moms" sounds comical, well, at least they seem to be in on the joke. A cheeky "history" of the group on the Web site asks, "Have you imagined your husband is a vampire (or werewolf) and suddenly have the libido of newlywed again? Do you convince yourself that 'cold cereal' makes a perfectly wholesome dinner? Is the pizza delivery boy now on your Christmas card list?"

Kirsten is lucky; her husband of 11 years totally gets it. He runs his own community Web site for military-scale modelers. He's even indulged her by listening to the books on tape during a long car trip. And the Twilight Moms have become not merely fellow fans but also close friends. They talk about families and marriages. They talk about their irritation with Bella. (Bella is often an object of annoyance, even among superfans. One dismissed her as "an obnoxious bore.") They talk about Edward, of course. How smart and old-fashioned and well-mannered he is. Like many interviewees, Kirsten sees Edward as a dashing mix of Heathcliff from "Wuthering Heights" and Mr. Darcy of "Pride and Prejudice." (HarperCollins has even rereleased "Wuthering Heights," Bella's favorite book, with "Twilight"-themed covers.) Like Darcy, Edward is rich and talented but also aloof, difficult.

"It sounds like a lot of women have aloof, difficult fathers," says analyst Colette Dowling. "What you're drawn to is what you didn't get and a desire to rework and master that. I can imagine it's a powerful fantasy that this beautiful, aloof guy loves you at last. It's the ultimate oedipal solution."

Dowling has never read "Twilight" but agreed to talk with me about the phenomenon anyway. That's because Dowling is not merely an analyst, but she is also the author of the 1981 book "The Cinderella Complex," which explored women's unconscious desire to be taken care of, even at a time when feminism made independence more attainable than ever. More than a quarter-century has passed since that book came out, but Dowling still sees the same underlying anxiety. "For some women there is a tremendously strong resistance to creating your own life and the effort that takes. Their interest in 'Twilight' suggests there must be some need for a kind of protection, that there is some fear they can't really take care of themselves."

Laura Miller offered a similar analysis in an e-mail. "Bella relates to Edward much as a child does to a parent. His superhuman strength and powers, his wealth, his competency at all sorts of challenging activities, his vastly superior knowledge of the world and experience -- that's what adults look like to small children. He will protect her and provide for her, but also encourage her within the limits of that protection. That overwhelming power dynamic is both attractive if you're resisting adulthood and also erotic just as a sexual fantasy. But you're not supposed to want it, so it helps that it comes dressed up in the vampire guise."

"Twilight" fans are hopelessly split on the nature of Edward and Bella's relationship. Many described it as romantic, tapping into a craving for love that is practically embedded in our DNA. "The idea that someone you think is amazing sees you in a way that you want, a way that's different than you see yourself? It's intoxicating. We all want to be seen and appreciated," says Charlotte. Others expressed a frustration approaching contempt.

"I hate that Bella subordinates her whole existence to Edward's," writes Melanie, a fellow writer who leapt at the chance to rant about her guilty pleasure. "I really detest that the message to young girls is that marriage and motherhood -- even at the expense of your independence and even your life -- are the ultimate goals for women. Some people call 'Twilight' 'abstinence porn'; I prefer to think of it as heteronormative porn. I really wish Bella would have chosen neither boy, gone on to Dartmouth, gotten her degree, maybe experimented with lesbianism, and established a career before settling down and making babies."

But "Buffy" this ain't. (The popular video mashup "Buffy vs. Edward" mocks the stalky paternalism of our "Twilight" hero.) Stephenie Meyer is a Mormon whose book reflects her traditional values -- no graphic language, no graphic sex (one fan called it "three books of blue balls"), and sure as hell no righteous Sapphic interludes. It's so stodgily old-fashioned as to be almost funny. As the wry, self-mocking "Twilight" blogger at Cleoland puts it, "Twilight means never having to say you're kidding." In her hilarious write-up of "New Moon," Cleo fumed, "I hope the Twilight Moms are talking to their daughters about the role models set forth in this book. 'Honey, I know it hurts when Robert Sparkleson breaks up with you, but in real life, you're going to have to deal with it. Attempted suicide by thug is not healthy.'"

Of course, who said every piece of pop culture we consume has to be healthy and empowering? I don't remember the Rolling Stones doing much for feminism either, but "Under My Thumb" is still a damned irresistible little tune. " I am clearly not reading the books for any literary merit," says Jenny, a lawyer and mother of two who went to an Ivy League school. "I think that 'Twilight' is the ultimate teen girl’s fantasy -- and we all still have that teen girl buried somewhere inside of us, no matter how old we are."

"Maybe this is too personal," says Charlotte, "but I wasn't as careful with my virginity, with my heart and my body, when I was a teenager, and maybe that's where I'm escaping to. I'm rescuing the shy virgin in me that didn't get to be a shy virgin as long. I want Bella to be protected. And Edward does that. Albeit in a scary, dangerous way." She's careful to say, however, that her regression is pretty benign. It's not like she actually wants to be 15 again.

"How much more grown-up can I be?" she asks. "I'm married. I pay taxes. I own two businesses. I'm working through a marriage. Marriage is grown-up. I like my life. But there's probably some deep need to shut out the world for a while. Because the world is so fucking intrusive."

Actually, what "Twilight" has brought flooding back for many fans is not just the high drama of first love and betrayal but warm memories of a different relationship altogether.

"For so many of these women, this is the first book they've read cover to cover in 10 years," says Kirsten Starkweather. "Now they're grabbing the new book, whatever it is."

Charlotte agrees. "Reading is an act of defiance in the world today. I owe Stephenie Meyer a thank you note for reminding me of that."

And at a time when smart movies for women still seem frustratingly, mind-numbingly rare, Chris Weitz's "New Moon" has already sold out in thousands of theaters. Kirsten will be at a midnight showing at a two-day Twilight Mom event in Salt Lake City. Charlotte is planning to go with two other women -- one two years older and one a decade younger.

"I’m curious how many people like me are going to be in that theater," says Charlotte. "I know I’m not alone. I’m just not sure if I’m scared or comforted by that."