More like Patrick Bae-teman am I right?
“Kelsey, you really need to stop seeing him. He’s going to kill you!”
Ah yes, the all too familiar plea of my friends to try to not get myself murdered on a date. I had heard this phrase or similar iterations so many times that it shocked myself and those around me when there actually wasn’t a need to worry. I mean the usual send-off for a date is something like “have fun!” but no mine were always “share your location and text me when you leave!!!” As if modern dating wasn’t hard enough to begin with, now I had to account for the fact that pretty much every guy I was into probably wanted to choke me out, and not in the “fun and experimental” way if you catch my drift.
But, no matter how hard I tried (and I did try!) every guy I found myself seriously attracted to was a raging psycho. And no I’m not using the term the way many girls throw it around every time a guy chooses to hang out with his friends rather than spend an evening hauling purses in Pink. Ugh he’s such a psycho I can’t even why does he choose his friends over me! Nope, my men of choice were nearing Norman Bates territory. But awww, he loves his mother so much!
I was like a moth to a flame. Actually a better analogy more fitting for my own life experiences- psychos and I went together like moths and Buffalo Bill. She puts the lotion on her skin or she doesn’t get the date again. Nailed it.
I have a few working theories (not that I’m actively trying to test them) that might explain my near fatal attractions.
My first theory is that the thrill of danger is more appealing than a normal “Netflix and Chill” sesh. There’s always an element of surprise (or impending doom) when choosing to date someone perhaps a little of their rocker. Dinner and a movie? Psh that’s some Nicholas Sparks shit compared to my more Stanley Kubrick-esque dates. Think more along the lines of, I know a great mansion party where I play piano, but you’re gonna have to wear this mask. Ok so that didn’t really happen to me, but I did once go on a hiking date in the depths of MA (normal enough right? Told you I tried) and we did get very lost as it got dark. Yeah, really not a great mood setter when you’re panickedly looking for the right trail and just praying you don’t encounter any weird stick figures pinned to trees or piles of human teeth. But, the thrill of making our way out of the woods made a killer story (pun obviously intended). Probably should have brought a camcorder just in case.
My second theory is that the psychos made me feel more sane. Most of my “dates” with psychos were at the a time that I found myself in a dark place in life. What do you get when you mix low self-esteem, a need to feel less numb, and an urge to feel wanted? A molotov cocktail of personalities á la Jack and Wendy Torrence. By comparison, I could always say “I’m screwy for sure but damn I don’t even hold a candle to this dude”. Finding solace through scoundrels isn’t the best self-help advice I could give but it did the trick for me at least. Here’s to five miserable months on the wagon, and all the irreparable harm that it has caused me. #HappyAnniversary
My third theory? Psychos are just naturally charming and alluring. Think about it for a sec. Just how exactly did Patrick Bateman (the ultimate fictional psycho hottie) lure all those poor, helpless women? Designer suits, excellent taste in art, having the low-down on only the most chic places to dine, and an extensive and impressive knack for discography obviously helped. What woman wouldn’t want that? But what it really all boils down to? Charm. Dude had game. And the reality is that most psychos do, and that’s what makes them so attractive. They just lure you right in and then before you know it you’re at Nells thinking “this is going great!” while he’s thinking “chainsaw or axe?”.
But no matter the reason, my attraction to psychos was a curious and chancy one at best. I’m thankful I’ve survived some pretty dicey situations and that I’ve since grown out of the attraction (mostly).