She’s bombastic, bonkers, ebullient — and people like that are totally fascinating. We don’t sass others, we essentially sass ourselves with introspective, embarrassed, self-deprecating comedy. K-Stew is basically British and thus obviously a better match.
Stewart’s refusal to engage with the rigmarole of celebrity is also compelling. But if I ever have to do a clear-out — sending a few of my lady heroes off to Oxfam — there’s one I would never cast out: Jennifer Lawrence.
So I sympathise with K-Stew’s poetry, even when I went on Facebook and realised everyone else was right and it was actually really bad. But she’s also managed not to get sucked into Tinseltown pretension.
Yet contrary to assumption, one thing she’s not actually bad at is acting. TEAM J-LAWThere are many actresses in my Girl Crush Gallery of Awesomeness. On the red carpet, she gurns, she photobombs, she plays up to fans with a wink and a hoick of her falling-down dress before hyperventilating when she gets to meet Hollywood royalty.
She’s way better than the drippy R-Patz in Twilight and when given a meatier role she is genuinely enthralling. Plus she seems like the ultimate party date: after a night out with Lawrence, you’d wake up with your make-up still on, your contact lenses welded to your eyes and minus a shoe.
When you’re as fanatically competitive as I am (#soznotsoz), you can’t shake the prejudice that the underdog has the whiff of loser about them. Despite what movies preach, most of the time I’m right. However, there is seemingly one glaring exception to my despotic principle — and it was revealed in a meeting earlier this week when I stated proudly for the record that I was on Team K-Stew.
A quick summary: Nicholas Hoult (the ugly kid from About a Boy who became the fit one in Skins, and the unexpected one in Hollywood) has parted ways with erstwhile girlfriend Jennifer Lawrence and — allegedly — has since picked up with Kristen Stewart.
Lawrence is the Oscar-winning gorgeous goofball who seduces men and women alike and — unusually — doesn’t seem to inspire the corrosive jealousy that most other women with similar credentials would.
Kristen Stewart is the sullen, taciturn ex-girlfriend of Robert Pattinson — an actor whose bland beauty inspires mystifying fanaticism in tweenagers and twentysomethings alike.
She cheated on R-Patz with a married director 20 years her senior.
She wears Converse on the red carpet and wields a fearsome Bitchy Resting Face 90 per cent of the time.
And yet it is with K-Stew that I side, triumphantly.
First, there is the issue of natural order — as while Stewart is the underdog on paper, if you think laterally and at length about such things, then you’ll see she makes a lot more sense as a partner. Briefly, you may have been seduced by that sunny silliness and golden hair — the girl who gives graphic toilet humour on David Letterman, photobombs on the red carpet and sasses Jack Nicholson. Our photo default is an anguished grimace, not a goofy gurn.