The first time I saw it was at an all-media screening full of women and the lucky teenage girls who knew them – daughters, nieces, friends' daughters, you get the idea.
(Pet peeve: They took away every. Single. Person's. Cellphone. And made us check them like coats at the most insanely tween club ever. I wanted to die. I understand the need to stop rude movie-goers from texting or Twittering during a movie, especially teen girls typing, "OMG RPattz sparkles!" But still, it only encourages me to hide my iPhone in an orifice next time I go to an all-media. Hopefully, it won't come down to full body searches, though.)
And even though a few girls did scream when Robert Pattinson's name came onscreen, and when he appeared onscreen, and when he took his shirt off onscreen, there was some giggling too. They knew it was silly, but the overwhelming crushed-out feeling took over – you know it from when you plastered posters on your wall, and yes, for the most part, those people were just as silly. (Except me, 'cause I had a Death poster from the Sandman comics. That's just how I rolled.)
It was like I could hear – no, feel – them blossoming into womanhood when he appeared onscreen. Creepy.