Lost in this sea of women was a smaller group, which included myself, my wife, our three daughters, a friend from out of town and her daughter, a friend of my middle daughter, and my oldest daughter's boyfriend, Justin.
Seven girls, two guys. Nine of us in all.
If we could have, I think Justin and I would've escaped to another theatre, maybe watch 2012, or The Blind Side, or even Where The Wild Things Are - anything but a teenybopper flick. But, you know as well as I do that that wasn't going to happen.
I looked around and I realized that Justin and I were grossly outnumbered. There must have been two or three hundred other females ranging from junior high to senior adult just to see the new short-haired, beefed up Jacob.
I look back over the crowd of waiting movie patrons - a line that goes out the exit door and curves down the sidewalk - and count the heads of my male counterparts. From my point in the line, which is close to the front, I count seven.
I take out my cell phone. Technology, even my limited LG Shine, allows me to update my status on Twitter and Facebook. I post my place and position, expressing the raging excitement in my bones - ugh - and put my phone away.
Within the next five minutes, I must have 4 or 5 replies from women, friends of mine, wishing to trade me places at that particular moment in time.
I get a text message from a friend named Holly, replying to my Facebook post: "How many man cards did that cost ya?" Before thinking, and with a poor attempt at humor, I reply, "All of them!"
Hey, wait a minute! What was I thinking?! Justin, myself and the other seven shmucks may have come kicking and screaming, giving in to the puppy dog eyes of our wives and girlfriends, but give up our man card? I don't think so!!
We are finally admitted to the theatre and fill an entire row of seats. The previews come and go, and the movie begins.
This is Friday evening, and the movie officially opened at 12:01am, earlier that morning. I tell you this because I'm not certain if the group sitting right in front of us had read the book (if these details are even in the book) or saw the movie the night before, but they literally shushed the entire theatre during the motorcycle scene, when Jacob was about to take off his shirt.
Omigosh!
And when he did, there was this massive air movement as every woman in that overcrowded theatre gasped at the same time. I almost blacked out from oxygen deprivation.
Throughout the movie - which is very, VERY teenybopper - I realized that the premise behind the story is really nothing new. Girl falls in love with two different guys from opposing gangs, which results in heightened levels of aggression, leading to a climactic fight scene. Sounds a lot like West Side Story, only the gangs are vampires and werewolves.Welllll, I'm not going to ruin it for you, but that basic premise is almost true. The ending is abrupt, with no defined winner, or loser - at least, not until later in the movie series. We go out to eat after the movie, then head home.
I check my Facebook account the next morning, and I don't know if he's trying to encourage or antagonize me, but a close Marine friend of my brother has slammed me, using words like, 'sitting to pee' and stuff like that. I met Israel in August when I went out to North Carolina to visit my brother, and automatically liked him. Rugged, manly, military, Officer, kind of the typical Marine... need I say more?
On the day I met Israel, I looked at him, then I looked at my brother, both Marines, both Officers, and then I looked at myself: Clergy, musician, non-military, non-Monday Night Football, Non-hunter, living in a house full of women.
Now, I know what you're thinking. But before you go there, let me let you in on a little sumpin, sumpin.
I am, and forever will be a Lifetime Card Carrying member of the Male Gender. My Man Card has no expiration date, and is 100% non-revocable, non-transferrable, non-takeable or giveupable. I'll put my Man Card up against anyone's, any day, any time.
And even now, as I am comfortable in preparing to sort laundry and empty the dishwasher, I can safely say that any man who says they don't do laundry or dishes or don't go to the chick flicks with the women in their life is in denial, and your Man Card is at risk. Doing these things is just part of being a man.
Let me explain.
Real men do laundry, or else they wear traintracked underwears and wrinkled shirts. Real men do dishes, or else they eat off of paper plates and takeout. Real men help clean house, or else they never get to have friends over. Real men go watch New Moon when their wife or girlfriend asks, no, tells them to, or else they sleep on the couch, alone, with a bankie.
And another thing: Guys, if you're married, or dating, guess what? If you haven't been to a chick flick yet, your time's comin'. You will go - just get your Man Card out and show it to the clerk when he takes your ticket stub at the gate. Who knows, you might even tear up during the kissy-face scenes. And never, never deny it.
So if you're proud of your Man Card, you'd better man up, boy.
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