Fear and Foreplay

Horror movies do something to me. Like, deep in my lizard brain, something in me purrs. I can’t explain it. 

There’s blood on the walls, the lights are flickering, someone’s screaming “DON’T GO IN THERE,” and my brain’s just like, yes… intimacy.

It’s not the gore, it’s the adrenaline. The way fear sharpens every sense. You’re tense, alive, laughing because you’re scared. 

And suddenly it feels a lot like attraction. Like our fight-or-flight just got confused and decided to flirt instead.

Nothing says romance like shared popcorn and questionable coping mechanisms. I don’t want to watch a rom com and feel warm and fuzzy.

I want to watch two idiots summon a demon and feel my pulse sync with theirs.

Maybe it’s weird. Maybe it’s primal. 

But every time the lights flicker and that haunting soundtrack kicks in… the animal in me prowls, and the night just gets interesting.

Fear and desire are next-door neighbors. I just happen to knock on both doors at once.