Last week, I put together a list documenting the shocking evolution of Harry Potter‘s Neville Longbottom. Yes, actor Matthew Lewis had gone from a short, thumb of a boy to a grown ass good-looking man in a span of about 10 years. Judging by how many of you read that post, most likely in the privacy of your basement with the dimmer on low, I was not alone in my surprise. You all agreed: Neville Longbottom was hot.
Well… almost all of you. That’s because Kate Spencer, my co-worker and (I thought) friend, turned to the internet to rant and rave about how she didn’t “get” all the fuss about Longbottom. She was, essentially, throwing me under the hot guy bus. (*Also my favorite new sexual position that I just invented.)
In her post, Kate states:
Let me bust out some realness for you: lots of people stumble through their adolescence as ugly chubsters, only to shed the baby fat and bad teeth and learn how to buy a decent pair of jeans and spend a couple of bucks on a haircut and BOOM! — they become moderately attractive adults. Haven’t we ALL done this? If we’re handing out awards for People Who Look Less Atrocious As Adults Than They Did At 13 then I should take home Grand Prize, with Candace Cameron placing a close second
See, already we disagree, because if we’re going to talk about people going from ugly kids to hot adults, truly Jerry O’Connell is the King, with Patrick Dempsey coming in a close second. Not to mention my own self, who at 13 looked like the kid from Two and a Half Men.
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Kate clearly hates Longbottom. But why? Why would a grown ass woman hate on an up-and-coming awkwardly handsome Brit?
And the it is revealed: Ms. Spencer is a through and through Twihard. She’s a walking Wikipedia of Twilight facts. One of those facts is that, if given the chance, Kate would gladly leave everything behind for even a single night with Robert Pattinson.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I mean if Robert Pattinson stumbled over to me wasted at a bar with his eagle talon hands awkwardly running through the unwashed tresses that so many empty lockets long for (code for underage sex), I wouldn’t not talk to him. I mean… sure, his breath is probably the same smell rising from the grave of Arthur Guinness, and yeah, he can open a can of beans with his teeth, but I’m not going to say I’m immune to his face.
That being said, there’s just something so dopey and sweet and showered and kempt about Longbottom that I simply can’t help but loving him from afar. (I’m sitting on a branch outside of his bedroom with 14 Luna bars and binoculars around my neck.) Fighting words indeed.
Now, while I call my own private security guard to protect me for the next few hundred years given my anti-VILF stance, I leave it to you, commenters, to debate the hotness of these two British men that none of us will ever date. It’s a dilemma I like to call WILF vs. VILF (Wizard I’d Like To F*ck vs. Vampire I’d Like To F*ck.) Have a great time.
