While I can’t deny that I’ve been mindlessly flipping pages for the last handful of hours, or that I’m merely taking a break to write this article, I’d like to say in my defense that I’m reading critically. And so is my roommate. Reading obsessively, yes, but with a skeptical mind (a mind that is rapidly losing brain cells). And as a product of all of our skepticism, my roommate and I have managed one interesting Twilight-inspired conversation. Our topic? Obsessive love.

If these books are really going to take up all this time we don’t have (finals, anyone?), we at least have to fight back by being snide and cynical. Sure, we both agreed that being in love with a vampire would be awesome—who wouldn’t want a boyfriend who could carry you from class to class at lightning speed while also saving you from impending death at least twice a day? That’s transportation and a life insurance policy all in one! And all you have to do for him is smell nice. Sounds like a good deal to me. But what we had a problem with was the way love is portrayed in these stories. The books go on and on about love being irrational, obsessive and worth laying down your life for. That’s not the love I want.

Yeah, I get that the characters in the books are dealing with special circumstances (one of them happens to be undead), but that kind of instantaneous, all-consuming “you are my life now” love really gets on my nerves. Maybe that’s because I’ve felt shades of that in the past, and I know it’s just not healthy. Actually, I wonder if it’s even love. Really, how can obsession be love? I think of real love as something that brings you balance, something that makes you even more confident and happy with yourself. Twilight love is anything but stable. Frankly, it’s borderline clinical.

I wouldn’t want to be consumed (either literally or metaphorically) by another person again. I wouldn’t want to experience first love twice. It annoys me that Twilight seems to present itself as a story of the way love should be. Maybe it’s just how love is when two people don’t know better yet.

Pardon the cynicism. Perhaps I’m just overcompensating because I’m still dutifully reading these books. Maybe I can’t buy in and long for that kind of connection, but I can at least relate. And even if the fantasy is unhealthy, I could use a little fantasy during finals week.