Kristen Stewart cheated on Robert Pattinson!

So a lot happened last week. The start of the Olympic games and all that. So being British, there is only one thing I can really talk about: Kristen Stewart’s vagina.

Yes, Stewart’s vagina has done Britain a great disservice – cheating on Cedric Diggory, after all he went through in the Goblet of Fire. I mean, I know Chang didn’t do the dirty with Harry Potter until book five,  but we all know she at least flashed him a cheeky nipple at the Yule Ball[1].  So for poor Robert Pattinson to have someone else, once again, slytherin on his hufflepuff… Well it just gets my dobby, it does.

“You did what in the Room of Requirements?!”

But seriously, my sexualisation of the Harry Potter franchise aside, people are pissed at Kristen Stewart. On twitter, on facebook, and even on video . People seem to be so angry at this girl for cheating on what they deem to be the ‘perfect man’, it’s as if her affair was a personal attack on them.



The only way I can explain the rage that so many women appear to be feeling is this. These women seem to believe that at some point in history there was a race. A race for all women to compete in, and the grand prize for said race was Robert Pattison. Kristen Stewart won the race, but now, before the rest of the women even had a chance at reaching the finishing line, she’s gone and thrown her ‘prize’ in the bin. The twihards weep as if they’ve just seen Tomas Transtomer throw his nobel prize out with his pizza boxes.


In other words – this is all madness.
Now there are many reasons to be mad at Kristen Stewart for what she’s done – eg, breaking up a marriage that had kids involved, setting a bad example for the people looking up to her, betraying someone she loves. But getting mad at her simply because it was Robert Pattinson  -EDWARD OMG-SO-SHINY CULLEN –  is not one of them.

In fact, looking at the reaction her affair has caused, I’m surprised she didn’t cheat on him sooner.

Eating her out is one thing, but eating her shoulder? Get a room Rupert. 


What’s this, you condone her cheating?

No, but I do sympathise with her cracking under the pressure of being in the ‘perfect relationship’.

Throughout the entire coverage of this affair, the press have been very keen to emphasis that Kristen is 22 while Sanders is 41. And while many look at those numbers and cringe, saying “Ew 19 years age difference…” I sit on my laptop screaming “YES EXACTLY! She’s TWENTY TWO!”

She is 22 and has been in a very high profile relationship since 19. Can you imagine, if you were 19, and you got with this great guy but from then on everyone kept saying to you: 

“OMG! You are so LUCKY! Do you know how PERFECT he is? He is just so HANDSOME! How did you even get him? No way are you pretty enough to be his girlfriend, I mean, literally THOUSANDS of other women want to be his girlfriend. You better not fuck this up – DO NOT FUCK THIS UP! This is it, you have to be together FOREVER! DO NOT – I REPEAT – DO NOT FUCK THIS UP!”

Her entire relationship was/is (are they even still together?) like that moment when you’re somewhere really high, like on a bridge or something, and you just have a massive urge to throw something valuable over the edge – just because you know you shouldn’t. That’s just human nature.

If I had been put in this kind of situation at 19, I would have gone mad long ago. Never mind cheating with a 41 year old married guy, I would have become a stripper and have been photographed in a mass orgy with every member of the muppets – puppets and puppeteers all included.

And with that disturbing image in mind, maybe we should all be a little more understanding for old K-Stew. After all, the perfect man doesn’t necessary equal the perfect situation. And if you can’t fuck up a relationship at 22, then when can you?

In your early twenties, kids, you are basically a crash test dummy for romance. So let’s pick Kristen Stewart out of this wreckage, and say: ‘At least you didn’t suck Gonzo off in the back seat of a hummer.’


[1]Who has a massive Potter boner? I know I do. 

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