The Grip of Fandom…

Perusing WordPress, I happened across an article about fandom from this site. Yes, it’s a post about Robert Pattinson and Twilight, but what was interesting to me was how the first part of the post could be applied universally to any fandom.

I know I said I’d made peace but I still take issue with it — the gravitational pull associated with being a fan.

You start out being mildly interested. Then you become intrigued. Then you become so intrigued that you actually spend time documenting your snow-balling fascination.

Soon you start talking to others who are similarly afflicted and your passion grows stronger still. You start to commune and feel some sort of primal, deeply rooted attachment; it’s important for some reason. A sense of glee blooms out of that; you can’t get by without it. Or you don’t want to.

Knowing that you’re not alone (as evidenced by member counts on fan sites and the number of mainstream media outlets that have resorted to dedicated news feeds and their own coded versions of girlish squeals) makes it a little bit easier to feel okay about what you know, deep down, must be a sickness. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve become infected.

You always thought you were immune to this stuff.

But you’re not.

Being a Twilight fan is odd. It should be odd. But Twilight fandom gave way to Edward fandom and Edward appreciation has now given way, almost totally, to being a Roboholic because, at this point, you have pretty much eclipsed your character. (For the record, I didn’t coin that phrase. It’s just something the kids R texting.)

Due to your well publicized, explosive effect on women, I’ll never look good talking you up. I’ll always come off as ridiculous walking out of the store with that GQ tucked under my arm. It’s assumed that if I’m buying something that is associated with you, I must be one of those chicks who has lost her god damn mind. So, as I physically moved forward last week toward the entrance to the bookstore, I was, in fact, shrinking away from it on the inside.

The magazine section on the third floor was dragging me closer. I had to see the April issue for myself. I had to hold it. I had to pass by the young adult section to get there and it was tricked out — still – with those ominous and oh-so-familiar black and crimson books …

Fucking fuck.

You don’t even like GQ.

It’s true. In terms of men’s magazines I’m generally only going to buy either Details or Complex.

So why are you disrupting your schedule right now to go pick this thing up?

So, take away the Twilight reference and insert the Taylor Hicks fandom of drama. Who hasn’t been there and done that?