I genuinely hate the horror genre. That is the one gay stereotype that seems to have skipped me. Got the rest though, so relax. I just don’t see it’s appeal. And it’s not because of the gore, I have watched a many action film with enough blood and guts to fill an oil tanker. I just don’t enjoy being stressed. The idea that people are fighting for their lives and at constant risk is not the escape I want. In fact it’s nothing like that. Films, books, comics, video games, are meant to be a break from the reality we are experiencing. Well, for most of my life it has been mostly anxiety and stress that jumping into a movie where the hero may or may not live is not something I want to indulge in.

All of this was brought about because I watched “The Fall of the House of Usher.” It was a fantastic show, but I had to hide behind my hands from some of the more graphic moments. There was only one that truly made me want to vomit, and that was in the second goddamn episode. I told myself, “this is the first one… I can’t imagine them getting tamer.” Surprisingly they did for the most part. I learned after seeing the episode that the first two were featured at some film festival and then it all clicked.

After that the gore was significantly toned down. The only one that genuinely made me uncomfortable (after the human soup) was not so much gory but psychologically unnerving. I saw far too many parallels between one of the bed bound characters and my husband. It made me feel for him moreso because of how vulnerable he is. Luckily he is in the hands of a self-proclaimed and wannabe “white knight.” (I wish I had the photo of me pretending to be Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty from when I was 2 to include.) The helplessness of the character just made me sick.

There’s a moment when the husband of this bed-bound character starts to shout “Where’s your wedding ring?” So I started doing that to my husband as a joke. He hasn’t worn his since he lost 150 lbs. It wouldn’t stay on his finger and so he took it off because he’d rather have it at home than lose it without noticing. Now only I know where the “one ring” lays hidden.

I think that’s why the river of my writing runs in the valley of adventure, only forking once to journey into the ravine of non-fiction and self-reflection. Life is scary enough, that horror just isn’t in my wheelhouse. To those that do, kudos, and good luck. I appreciate your talents, however I will not indulge because to do so only causes me anxiety.