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.

Will She or Won't She. Stewie @ the WFE Premiere

So the question of the day is will she or won’t she? It’s a big coming out party for her boy. Will she come out for Team Jacob or will she stay back and take care of Bear?

All week I’ve been telling people I would lay down on the ground and throw a little hissy fit if my girl doesn’t show tonight to support her man. I don’t really care if she walks the red carpet. I can’t let myself ever imagine a world where Stewie voluntarily walks hand-in-hand with him under the glare of flashing cameras. I just don’t think that’s gonna happen. If I thought about it too much I'd have to breath into a paper bag.

I don’t need the shots of them suffering through a red carpet preen together tonight (although bejesus another shot of her gripping the back of his suit jacket at the BD premiere would be much appreciated). Of course, I’d love to see her rocking some obscenely hot mini and ridiculously high heels as much as the next fan. But honestly, I am one of those delusionally happy robsten supporters who would be sufficiently blissed out just knowing she snuck in a back door and sat next to him to hold his sweaty hand and bump his leg every now and then with her own nervous leg thumping.

Actually, the thought of them sitting in the dark leg thumping together makes me giddy. I don’t need to see it; I can imagine it just fine. Yep. Delusionally weird, I know. I need a 12 step program of some kind. My friends are all looking into it.

But, as I sit here glued to my twitter feed wondering how those brave ladies stood through all that rain last night, a thought has dawned on me.

We know the glitz and glamour isn’t her scene. We know it sounds as if she was working right through last night. Girlfriend is probably pretty goddamn tired. And really could we blame her if she wanted to stay home tonight and snuggle up with Bear, smoke a pack of cigarettes, cook herself some recipe from the Food Network and just sext her man all night while he leg thumps on his own in the dark?

Kristen is a ninja. She can outwit, outsmart and outlast us. I have to remind myself of this constantly. Did she really jet across the country with him this morning and plan to doll it up tonight? Or will she sneak herself across the pond and show up going through a back door in Berlin or London or Paris? Hell, she could probably back-door it at one of those shows and we’d never even know. She’d pop up in some European airport a day later and we’d all kick ourselves cause she’s managed to best our CIA-like snooping abilities yet again.

So I’ve decided to put my big girl panties on and not throw a fit no matter what happens tonight. Part of my endearment to this woman is she doesn’t feed off the flashbulbs like the rest of them. She knows what she has with him is worth protecting – even if she has to be labeled a bitch by all the haters for doing everything ninja-style.

So cheers to you Stewie. 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’. But I’m gonna be understanding if you just say ‘fuck it’ and don’t show up at all.

I hope wherever you are tonight – stilettos on 54th street or sweats on the couch – you are happy knowing your boy is about to showcase to the world just what he can do when you let him shed the malicious contacts and pasty white makeup. I know you’re the captain of Team Rob and I don’t necessarily need to see you holding pom-poms to believe it.