KStew's Big 'Fuck It' Heard Round The World

It seems like this musing should start out with that famous fangirl word that starts with an ‘S’ and ends with lots of ‘eeeeeee’s.  Oh happy, happy day.

So way back yesterday (the day we should now label 4/17/11B.E.K., Before Epic Kiss) I posted a lil rambling rumination called ‘Will She? Won’t She’ where I said and I quote (cause your asses were too busy looking at Gucci suits to read my inner dialogue): “Part of me hopes now that BD filming is over you say ‘fuck it I’m going and I’m gonna rock it and all those bitches can be jealous.’”

Oh Stewie.  You so did not disappoint. And what I love is I know you could have given two shits about disappointing us.  But you didn’t disappoint him. You got all dolled up, but didn’t pose for a single picture.  Because you didn’t get decked out in that fuckhawt dress for us. You did it for him.  It was his big night and having you on his arm, as his biggest supporter, must’ve made it so much sweeter for him.

I love the way you love him. 

It’s part of what makes me admire you so very much.

You do it so quietly. In such a classy way.  You love ‘Rob’. And by that I mean the real person.  The one we don’t know.  We know Robert – the actor. The tiny slice of a person we get to see in 10 minute interviews and 4 page magazine spreads. You know him and for so long it’s been so clear to many of us that you love him. You’ve shown us in your own little ways.  The subtle jewelry. The shared clothes. The quiet rendezvous on movie sets or holidays. In my mind, all these things were your soundless confirmation of something you feel no need to cheapen by putting to words.

If you were like the other 99% of Hollywood starlets you would be trying to get papped with him every damn chance you could.  But you don’t need to be ‘Robert Pattinson’s girlfriend’. You are clearly happy just being Rob’s girl. 

And last night that’s exactly what you were.  You weren’t there to make a splash. You weren’t there as Hollywood’s It Girl.  You were just a girl in love with a boy. *sigh*.  I love that.

I knew you wouldn’t walk the carpet. One, it’s not your style. Two, it was their night to shine.  And although you seem befuddled by it – you have a way of outshining people. This was one time that sneaking in the back door was such an elegant way to make a grand entrance.

And that brings me to your big ‘fuck it’.

Dear lord. You had us at the hand holding on the way out the theatre door…. So the after-party ‘fuck it’ was like giving us a visit from Santa and the Easter bunny all in the same night.

I have seen so many pictures of you getting into a car in misery.  I actually always feel so guilty glimpsing pap pics of you in a car, because you are always so very clearly miserable. You curl yourself into a ball, you flip the bird, you pull your hair in front of your face and turn away from the windows so they only catch your back.  Your message is always loud and clear.  Fuck off assholes. You’re not making a dime off of me.

But not last night.

To most people it’s a tiny smooch. But, I think, you were making a big fat statement. Those flashbulbs were popping like strobe lights in a Vegas strip club. You knew we were watching. The nervous smile, the nose tug, the wide eyes and happy smile.  Maybe they would have gotten lucky and caught all that. But then there’s the turn.  You turned.  You turned TOWARD the window and let them all capture your smiling face.  And I am speechless over the volumes that speaks.

You decided to let us witness your happy. And I don’t know if it was one to many whiskeys or being drunk off the buzz of a beautiful night that allowed you to let it happen. But seeing you that carefree was…heartwarming.

 You didn’t disappoint last night and I sincerely hope we don’t disappoint you now with all our stupid girlish giggling. I respect you so much for protecting what is yours all this time. In my heart I think you fear the money shot not because of what it will do to you – but because you worry once you give them the shots of your happy – they will all be in search of any tiny moment they can spin as your sad. They will twist those shots into something they can fabricate and sell.  And many times those are the money shots that destroy people who walk in shoes like yours. So I will not fault you if you go back into your shell. Protect it. Take care of it. 

 I know you wish we’d all get a life and go away and let you live yours.  As totally, freakishly BIZZARE as it is (and trust me, we all know we need a 12-step program) I just wish you both knew how much happiness you both spread by just being happy with each other.

Life’s short. Say ‘fuck it’ more often.