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To suck or not to suck

Why guy vampires suck
Reason #2

The other reason male vampires suck is that they won't, well, suck. Trust me, you do not want a vampire going down on you. Fangs and genitalia do not mix.

To be fair, guy vampires don't get so many bj's from girl vampires for the same reason.

Which brings me to a fun fact about vampire-human relations. Vampires need human blood to survive, true. But in this day and age, does mere survival cut the mustard? Ask yourself, is life without oral sex worth living?

Sure, blood may be the number one thing vampires need from humans, but oral sex is a very close number two.

Vampire groupies from hell

Why Guy Vampires Suck
Reason #2

If you needed another reason to stay away from male vampires, here it is: groupies.

There is a never-ending supply of human women desperate, crazy, or starstruck enough to worship a vampire man. Once that happens, even the most levelheaded guy turns into an asshole. It's frustrating.

But understandable. I mean, who would you rather hang out with? The girl that tells you it's your turn to take out the corpses on trash day 'cause they're starting to reek, or the girl who hangs on your every word and treats you like a living god?

Morning-after vampires

Why Guy Vampires Suck
Reason #1

Male vampires are never there in the morning. Enough with the "sunlight burns" excuse. Hello, we're all vampires here.

The problem is that turning into a vampire brings out the worst in a guy. Ever heard the term "sexual predator"? When a man becomes a vampire, he realizes that after he sleeps with a girl, he can skip the whole making-breakfast, second-date issue by just killing her then and there.

Sick, I know.

A few months later, when he meets a nice girl vamp, do you think he treats her any better? Hell, no!

(Except for the killing part. Girl vamps get the not calling part instead.)

If a male vampire tells you that women vampires are high maintenance, first, stake him in the heart. Then, ask his disintegrating corpse if by "high maintenance," he means, not a total flipping doormat like the rest of his pathetic human snacks.

Sigh. You do know this is a cry for help, right? I'm mad, but I really hope I'm wrong about guy vamps. Eternity is a very long time.

Guy vampires suck

Male vampires are the single biggest reason I wish I stayed human.

Before my conversion, I had plenty of bitch sessions with my girlfriends about how guys suck. Of course, what we meant by that was that all the guys we were dating at that particular moment -- sucked. And there were always exceptions. There was always someone we could all agree was a standup guy, and that wasn't even counting fathers, brothers, clergy, or that guy down the hall who was maybe British or something.

Now that I'm a vampire, the guy situation is dire. When I ask why guy vampires are such universal a-holes, the response is pretty much total silence. Every once in awhile, somebody perks up.

"What about Scott?"

"He's a werewolf."

"Oh yeah."

More silence.

I didn't know how good I had it.

The average American woman is lucky. She gets to be equal -- with benefits. The average American guy gets the equality thing. He gets that we vote, we work, we kick ass in soccer. But he's still chivalrous. He'll pay for dates, open doors, buy flowers, even give up his seat on a liferaft. Women and children first. Sucker!

Okay, I know it's true women still make like sixty cents for every dollar that men do, but hey, women's lib has been around for maybe 200 years, while patriarchy has been around for hmmm, ALL OF TIME. I say let's take that sixty cents and buy candy because the American man is not that bad.

Moving on, three glaring reasons that vampire men suck more than mortal men, excuse the lame pun. Wait. Make that four....

Too hungry, can't think straight. Time to find me a nice human.

More on this soon, haven't even started getting my rant on....

Losing my humanity

Becoming a vampire was, in a nutshell, too much Bridget Jones and not enough Anne Rice.

I wanted to become a vampire because I was an insecure woman in my late 20s, and I really wanted to be a different person. After my transformation, I saw my true self: an insecure woman in her late 20s who really wanted to be a different person and who now, additionally, needed to eat people to survive.

It was also a lot harder than I thought it would be. The toughest part was finding a freaking vampire. I spent about three months barhopping and wandering the streets at night before I found the real thing. Let me tell you, there are a lot of pale, toothy, nocturnal guys out there. Some are musicians, some are drug addicts, some are insane, and most dangerous of all, some are actors.

It was getting expensive (Los Angeles is one of those cities where cocktails cost more than meals) when I finally realized --newsflash-- vampires don't go to swank places. It's like the opposite of Cheers. They like crowded, anonymous places where nobody knows anyone's name. Tourist traps are perfect. When a traveler goes missing, it takes a while before people notice. You want a vampire? Try Universal Citywalk. I go there myself when I need a quick snack.

I found my vampire in a divey place near LAX. I was in a diner that was kind of a poor man's Hooters (it was called Booties or Scooters or something like that). My tire had blown out on the way back from the airport, and my cell phone had no reception. Booties had a pay phone in the back of the restaurant, and as I was trying to get through to Triple A, I noticed this Michael Madsen lookalike eyeing me from the bar. Kill Bill Michael Madsen, not Mr. Blonde Michael Madsen, unfortunately. When he saw me looking at him, he tucked in his beer belly and lurched towards me, "You need a ride home? I'll give you a reee-al nice ride."

Right.

But then, as he wiped some drool from the corner of his mouth, I saw something. I saw a fang.

There are things you hear about that just don't hit home until you experience them yourself. For example, things in cookbooks. Beat the egg whites until they form soft peaks. Does anyone know what that means? Then you try it yourself, fuck up like a dozen eggs, and then finally, ta-da, your egg whites look like, well, soft peaks.

Or, take the expression "dead as a doorknob." When someone is dying, especially if you're the one who's killing them, you want to know, "Are they dead yet? Are they dead yet?" Believe me, you know. It's when a person stops being a person and becomes a thing. An it. Dead as a doorknob. That's what it was like when I saw fake Michael Madsen's fang. I knew in my bones he was real.

Getting him home was a treat. The bouncer helped me change my tire and pretty much dragged, let's call him Michael, into my Honda. 200 pounds of sauced vampire is hard to handle on your own. Luckily, my apartment is on the first floor. We staggered into my place. I propped him against the kitchen counter. He perked up at this point and took a good look at me. He leaned in and bared those fangs, "Wanna live forever?" Before I could answer, he fell over and puked.

There is nothing as disgusting as vampire puke. Remember the movie The Shining? The part where the tsunami of blood fills the hotel lobby? It's like that but smellier.

I kept going (why? why?). I mopped up. I made coffee. I waited. For hours. I hadn't even realized I was asleep when I woke up on the kitchen floor and I saw that Michael was sipping his coffee and watching me. "Why are you still here, girlie?" he asked, "You should be running."

"I want it," I said. He kind of slid himself across the floor towards me. I tried making fists to stop my hands from shaking.

He was right next to me, stroking my hair. "Are you sure?" he drawled. I bolted, or tried to, but he grabbed my neck with both hands and bit.

Why doesn't anyone tell you how much it hurts?

I blacked out. When I woke up the next day, everything, everything, everything was different.

Losing my virginity

Losing my virginity was a beautiful experience. We were both in high school and very much in lust.

We planned a sixteen year old's idea of the best night ever. We told our parents we were going to sleepovers. Then we enlisted our best friends for alibis. He reserved a hotel room. Not the Days Inn, not the Motel 6, but the best the suburbs had to offer us--the Hilton.

It was a great night. We didn't get a whole lot of sleep, but that was kind of the point. A couple hours in, we took a break and ordered Pizza Hut. How cute is that?

The delivery guy ended up being this kid from my European history class. So, you know, we gave him a big tip. Which in retrospect was probably a whopping two dollars. Sorry dude.

Looking back, I can see what made it wonderful. It was one of those rare times when a girl and a guy wanted exactly the same thing: sex, room service, and pan-crust pepperoni pizza with extra cheese.

Becoming a woman was a beautiful thing. Becoming a vampire was oh so ugly...

Coming soon:
Losing my humanity