It’s Me, Ya Boy Who Hates Star Wars And Really Wishes You’d Shut The Fuck Up About It
By: Matt Tuozzo
Tags: Star Wars

I have, in another life, been what one might call a Star Wars fan. When I was a kid, back in ye olden dayes of the original series, I ate up Star Wars trivia like it was candy. I bought a book about Star Wars facts written by an eleven year old and memorized it from cover to cover. I was banned from playing Star Wars Trivial Pursuit in multiple households because once it was my turn, the game was simply over.

So when I say what I am going to say next, understand that this is not coming from some old, crotchety nerd who thinks George Lucas ruined his childhood with the prequels (I’m looking at you, Red Letter Media). This is someone with a significant investment of time, emotion, and thought towards a shared universe. This is someone who thinks back fondly on the Shadows of the Empire multimedia project. This is someone who read and re-read the Tales series. This is someone who watched the Ewok movies — hell, this is someone who watched the Star Wars Holiday Special the single time that it aired, and genuinely liked it. I have spent a good bulk of my life with Star Wars, and have loved it tremendously.

I fucking hate Star Wars and I really wish you’d shut up about it.

What I realized — sometime around that god-awful Clone Wars series, probably (fuck you, it’s bad and I will never, ever care about Ashoka Tano, to the point that I am fully aware that I misspelled that name) — was that I was in an abusive relationship with Star Wars. It wasn’t a matter of “Star Wars is no longer the thing I grew up with.” I am not a stupid baby. Media evolves. Artists grow, and their art changes accordingly. Sometimes I like it, sometimes I don’t. That’s all perfectly normal and would not warrant my typing this article.

Star Wars is a different problem. Star Wars knows you’ll keep coming back, and it doesn’t have to do a single god damn thing to earn your love, and doesn’t. That’s also the definition of an abuser! This is why you will see C-3PO on boxes of macaroni and cheese. What. The Fuck. Does macaroni and cheese have to do with Star Wars? Not a goddamn thing, and Star Wars doesn’t care, because it damn sight knows you will buy that shit and keep it on your shelf for forty years as a “collector’s item.” A dumb cardboard box with perishable food in it!

So I left Star Wars. I didn’t watch The Last Jedi or The Rise of Skywalker; I stopped at Rogue One, the last Star Wars I have seen in a theater. (To illustrate that I am being fair: I liked it! It was a good film!) It was painful for a while. I missed Star Wars. I would slip on occasion, because I remembered the good times, and now and again I’d go back and check on Star Wars, and defend its behavior. No, really, I’d say: the Han Solo movie wasn’t that bad. Every time I’d eventually feel myself hating myself again.

Again, all this is personal and admittedly somewhat trite and not worth my writing this piece for. The reason I am talking about all this is because some of you out there seem to take a truly perverse pleasure in asking me, regularly, about my abusive ex. My deep and justified hatred of Star Wars is well-known at this point. It is not a joke or some snide, insincere cynicism for Gen-X cool points. I want Star Wars out of my life. Yet you keep asking me about it.

Why? Why do you want me to feel terrible?

Maybe you just haven’t thought this through. Okay, sure. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. This is your notice, then. I’m fucking serious. Don’t ask me about Star Wars in any of my spaces. Don’t post about it on my social media accounts. Don’t message me asking what I thought about The Mandalorian; I think it’s a Star Wars and therefore unpleasant by association and thus not worth watching even if it’s good. Don’t bring up Star Wars at all to me. There are so many other things to talk about in the world! (Fair warning: Star Trek is also off the table, but that’s a whole other article).

I’ll tell you what I suspect it is, however. I suspect it’s that you know that you’re in an abusive relationship with Star Wars, too. You see me breaking from its destructive charms, living my best life, and you’re jealous that you don’t have that freedom. You want to drag me back down into the muck with you.

Girl, don’t pull me back into your hot mess. Get free yourself! You can leave Star Wars. You don’t have to put up with its bullshit any longer. I did it! It’s good actually! There are many other franchises who deserve your love so much more! (Don’t get me started about my recent obsession with the Fallout universe.)

I know, you think you won’t be able to make it without Star Wars. It’s supported you through so many bad times, and right now, in 2020, we’re in the worst times. It’s easier than ever to fall back on the nostalgic comfort of Star Wars, and I get that. But Star Wars doesn’t love you, honey.

Read that again: Star Wars doesn’t love you. It just wants to use you. You deserve better.

But hey, honestly, I get it if you’re not in a place where you feel you can leave Star Wars right now. Abusive relationships are complex and sometimes “just leave” is an oversimplification. You have to do what you feel is best for you and your own security and self worth.

And so do I, so fuck right off with that Star Wars talk or I will absolutely permanently block your ass.