When Teenage Fantasies Turn to Fangtasies
I have a supernatural confession to make. I’m hoping I won’t be alone here, or at least that you won’t judge me. Maybe you are going through this too and don’t know where to turn, because you too thought it could never happen to you… you were above that, smarter than that… and now it’s too late. Okay, I’m going to come right out and say it.
I have an obsession with teenage boys.
That’s right, I’ve been perving over nineteen year olds (not really young ones, Christ, I’m not that bad)! But it gets worse than that. Much worse. It’s not just older teen boys that I have a thing for, it’s teenage werewolf and vampire boys.
I’ve pondered long and hard about this. I’ve wondered exactly how, as a married mother in her thirties, I could be dragged into the sordid world of supernatural adolescence. Is it because they weren’t around during my teenage pre-pubescent days of TV longing; watching the likes of fully-grown John Travolta and Patrick Swayze pretending to be teenagers and dancing their way through my befuddled sing-along day dreams? Is it because having regular sex with my regular grown up husband and his regular body isn’t enough, so fangs and claws are giving a sharper edge to my fantasies? Or is it the heady mix of confusing American CGI-heavy plots mixed with the perfect Abercrombie and Fitch faces making me wish that my teenage snogs of yesteryear had included more blood and biting and witticisms?
I’m not fussy or all that loyal either. Honestly, I couldn’t care less who snatches me from the pale blue smoky American high school deserted corridor and ravages me in the precariously stacked stock room. I would be just as happy for sexy wolf-man Derek (yes, even with that name) or Scott the Teen Wolf to grunt and back-flip my way; or True Blood’s Jason with his tight jeans and I-fuck-so-much-I-can’t-walk gate; any of the Originals boys, including the brothers who keep swapping bodies – each one getting hotter and hotter like a horny game of Russian Dolls in reverse; or either of the scowling, perpetually smoldering Salvatore brothers with their Vampire Diaries and ill-fitting leather jackets. Honestly, I’m completely happy with any combination. In fact, I’ll have them all. They are meant to be horny teenagers after all, surely they won’t take long or run out of enthusiasm.
There are nights, when the kids are fast asleep and hubby is safely tucked up in bed, that I tiptoe into the drafty living room, laptop in hand, and stream myself a steaming 42 minutes of High School heaven. I get to wallow in the teen angst and drama, the innocence and sexual tension, the magic and the anticipation-fueled semi horror of all that slashing and shagging while sipping my coco in my PJs. It’s pure escapism. It’s so bad, it’s good… real good.
Those teens (actually, I have Googled the actors and breathed a sigh of relief that in real life they are all in their mid-twenties, so I can stop deleting my pervy search history) are everything I wanted to be when I was a boring spotty youth. They are all beautiful, strong, clever, funny and wear great clothes (not including their ubiquitous leather jackets). The girls get to either be vampy vamps or shag all the hot guys, and I mean ALL the hot guys – because it seems that characters in these series are only allowed to have relationships with the other hotties that regularly hang out with their hot ex-boyfriends. These guys get to do magic, or live forever, or bunk off school saving lives and riding motorbikes; while the only exciting thing I did in my teens was sit on the wall outside Quazar drinking from a bottle of Strongbow and getting lightheaded on weak joints. And that was on the crazy days.
I think maybe, just maybe, if I could magically transport myself back twenty years to my teen self with what I know now, maybe I would be as cool as those vamp girls? Maybe I would have the magic to attract mysterious muscled men with brooding stares and I too could have had a sharp-toothed man-of-the-night on my arm?
I’m a grown woman who’s been around the block a few (dozen) times; I’ve had my fair share of bonks and battles, bad boys and break-ups, yet still these furious feral pheromone-fueled teens are making my heart race faster than a werewolf hunter on the prowl. So I have no idea how all the wide-eyed, innocent fifteen year old girls these programmes are aimed at are coping. I’m guessing they will be sorely disappointed when they eventually see what’s really out there waiting for them.
Because it’s all just a fantastical fantasy. Because I know vampires and werewolves don’t really exist, and I know teenage boys don’t really look that sexy or run around being smart and heroic and manly. I know that because I was once a teenage girl, and I remember that teenage boys do mainly two things – wank a lot and play computer games…neither of which produce six-packs or involve leaving the house.
So next full moon I’ll give up wandering around the woods aimlessly, bearing my neck and listening out for guttural panting, and instead get my teeth stuck into yet another juicy slice of trashy fantasy horror. With extra dollops of blood and lust… because nothing beats the excitement of a teen fangtasy!
