I like a good vampire story as much as the next person. I even like some bad vampire stories. I read Anne Rice back when she was just a fingerless-lace-glove wearing nut — before she became a “life of Jesus” nut. I watched (and continue to watch) Buffy and Angel. I read some of the soft-core crap that passes as the Anita Blake series. I’ve been watching Trueblood on HBO.

Yet, somehow I missed the whole Twilight thing. Until now.

Now, of course, it is impossible to escape the phenomenon that is Twilight. I watched news coverage about tween girls and their moms camping out overnight at the mall to catch a glimpse of the guy who’s starring in the movie. I heard that the first weekend’s showings of Twilight sold out a week in advance. I saw that some of my favorite bloggers are reading or have already read the series. (That’s you, What Now?, Mean Something and Dr. Crazy.)

So, my curiosity was piqued. I bought Twilight on Sunday and finished it today. I could certainly have finished it sooner if it hadn’t been for, well, all that pesky work that requires doin’. I give Stephenie Meyer credit for writing a fun and engaging story. It’s a pretty riveting, stay-up-until-2am kind of a read.

I was also reminded of one of the problems I have with these modern vampire narratives: Why in the world would a well-travelled and cultured vampire who’s witnessed hundreds of years of human history want to hang around with a teen-aged girl? The biggest fantasy presented by these stories is that 16-year-old middle-class white American girls are endlessly fascinating. The authors try to get around this by making the teen-aged girl somehow “special”: Buffy is the slayer. Sookie has psychic powers. Bella’s mind cannot be read by Edward. (I sense that there is more super-duper mystery surrounding this fact that will be revealed in subsequent books but I’ve only read the first one so don’t ruin it for me!) You could argue that the point is that 16 year old middle-class white American girls are capable of being endlessly fascinating — and propose that there’s an uplifting message in these stories: Be strong, brave, and loyal and it doesn’t matter that you’re just an ordinary girl. Unfortunately, I fear that the real message is: Only young, nubile, and virginal girls are interesting and even 300 year old vampires know it. So, you better hope you get “bitten” early on because no one cares about old chicks.

Am I wrong?

I’d like to see a vampire story in which the brooding, mysterious vampire says to himself, “You know, I’d like to have a real conversation with a woman who’s lived long enough to develop a mature perspective on the world, who has thought about things other than who’s going to the prom with whom, who has maybe read some books. We could talk for a while and then I would bite her soft, slightly wrinklely but still quite delicious neck.” I just don’t think the tweens would camp out all night for that guy.