• Stamos & Freud

Have Movies Taught You Nothing?

My wife and I just celebrated our 1-year anniversary. It has been a joyous year that included a robbery on our honeymoon to the Midwest, a gallstone attack, and a global pandemic. 2020 is a lasagna of suck. Layers and layers. For the record, we were the victims of the robbery we affectionately remember as the Honeymoon Heist.

While we continue to learn more about each other, living and quarantining together, there are some things I will never understand.

Whether it’s my anxiety, my upbringing, or unchecked imagination; there are some things I’ve learned about my spouse that make me uneasy.

Horror movies are a shared love between us. She enjoys the paranormally driven films while I get greater entertainment out of the campy horror stories.

Jump scares, slasher sequences, psychological horror, or cryptic foreshadowing continue to startle us both. Despite the spectrum of the horror genre, there are some rules that these films have taught even the most casual of fans:

  • If the house is haunted, don’t buy it.

  • If your child is possessed, put them up for adoption.

  • Possessed or not, naked old people was, is, and will always be terrifying.

Being the horror fan that she is, my wife continues to break the golden rule:

Never, under any circumstance, investigate a mysterious noise. Furthermore, don’t begin your endeavor by uttering the words, “I’ll be right back.”

These faux pas run so deep in horror movies that Wes Craven parodied much of his own tropes in the highly successful Scream franchise.

Yet, my wife continues to investigate what the dog is frantically barking at periodically throughout the night. She doesn’t care that its 3am, aka the witching hour. Nor does she consider bringing the baseball bat that rests next to our bed. Mind you, I have a panic attack twice a year when I remember serial killers are a thing.

This is the same wife that can’t sleep with the closet doors open because “the monsters will get me.”

This peculiar paradox is what makes her slipper stomping towards the nefarious nightly noise such an anomaly.

I get it, I’m a foot taller and much stronger than she is. My wrestling stats say that I should be the one choke-slamming any vandal that breaks into our home. The shouldering of home defense is not one I want, but as the larger spouse, its one I’ve inherited. However, on paper I think we should reconsider. For instance, I routinely struggle to enter my security pattern to unlock my phone. It could be a problem in a crisis.

The truth is, I’m not ignoring, downplaying, or afraid of whatever is making our dog go wild at night. In fact, I would like to argue that my motivations for not investigating are romantic.

She claims that I sleep through the ominous barking and that it’s up to her to ward off any potential dark forces... in suburbia.

I will see her claim and raise her a lifelong goal.

It has been my lifelong goal to die in my sleep. If she would just stay in bed, we could Notebook our way into eternity. Again, this is only if we are in fact, being invaded by some beast hell-bent on ending our lives.

Also, we could just call pest-control. The feral bunnies and squirrels are terrorizing the hell out of our dog at 3am.

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