Why Getting Dumped Made Me Love Horror Movies

I couldn’t figure out the reason behind my newfound interest in horror that weekend—but I noticed I wasn’t putting myself in the shoes of the characters, and that made all the difference for me. I wasn’t enjoying the movies because I identified with the idiot teens lost in the woods whose stupidity spelled their doom, which I used to do. No, this time it was freeing to watch malevolent forces act on fictional characters—to people who weren’t me.

When it feels like someone has ripped out your intestines already, it's hard to get too worked up at the sight of some monster doing it to someone else. Grotesque images never lingered in my mind in the dark, and the jolt of adrenaline was a welcome relief. Before, I was afraid that catastrophe might strike—nothing specific or likely, just a desire to hold onto what I already had and the fear of losing control. Now, on the other side of what had been my Worst Case Scenario, I’m fine. Maybe I’m still a little bruised and battered, still battling skittishness, but I know I’ll heal. Like some privileged, not-hunted-by-psychopaths version of Jamie Lee Curtis or Sharni Vinson.

My search for a bigger, more gruesome fright showed me that my experience isn’t unique, even if the details are (like some late-series Friday the 13th entry). All of my horror aficionado friends have said that the lizard brain response they have to being scared is part of the appeal. "What I like so much about great horror films is the visceral reaction I have to any scary moment in a film,” Brian, 35, said. “Immediately, I feel that horrible and exhilarating sensation I can remember from a little kid and being the last one to head upstairs for bed. The dread of turning off the lights and feeling darkness follow me up to my bedroom."

I also found people who had dealt with major life changes—divorces, health problems, and other Bad Things—found themselves suddenly even more drawn than before to films that dig into what lurks in the dark. “I always liked them, but I especially started liking them after I got sick," my friend Anne told me on Twitter. "Because everything else seems to ignore horror." Anne has often shared stories of ailments mysterious enough to be the basis for their own movie. “The givens are already worst case scenarios. Get through a couple of those in real life, and you're set,” she said.

Of course, most of those terrible things are the source material for some of the scariest movies of all time. The Babadook is just the most recent example; the terrifying psychological thriller deals with a widow's frustration with her own son and makes you wonder: Is this kid actually, literally evil or just annoying? And as long as modern culture stifles or dismisses female sexuality, I’ll be happy to watch witches, demons, and every day weird girls terrorize celluloid misogynists. I’d rather watch sickness, cruelty, and cultural hangups take shape as Freddy Krueger or the vomit stream from the Exorcist or the Satanists of House of the Devil than dwell in the crushing depression that follows a sudden loss. Who wouldn’t?

I can’t watch every type of scary movie—I can still live without Eli Roth torture porn, and I know that Hellraiser is the best S&M goth festival without seeing a dozen other violent rape scenes. But I’m a sucker for a Final Girl, or a ghost story, or an Idiot Teens Dismembered gorefest. I’m not afraid that zombies are about to attack Queens, and strange noises in the night don’t immediately have me reaching for a weight to use as a weapon. Some people may just not be horror people, but, now, I am.

Just don’t ask me to watch The Strangers again. I may be a survivor, but I’m not that strong.