I’m So Relieved You’re Not a Psychopath
A love letter to my husband in our 30th. year together
Dear Peter,
You are a short, skinny Jewish guy. Not exactly what I was looking for originally. We met in the days before Tinder, when what you saw was what you got, and I got you. Which brings me to the issue at hand.
Recently I noticed you are watching ‘You’ on Netflix. In bed at night and in the morning. Before your afternoon nap. And after.
We’ve always had divergent taste. I am pulled to true crime, shown in the harsh white glare of reality. Someone is murdered, police do their crimey thing, and usually the culprit is caught. Not always, but those shows at least try to be hopeful.
I watch true crime because it lets me play out my worst subconscious fears. Evil vs Not Evil, and usually a decent resolution. Not closure, just an affirmation that Good mostly subdues Bad. I know who to cheer for, who to feel compassion for, and who to demonise.
But your latest bromance, Joe from ‘You’, is a whole different, hypnotic insanity. He is charming and handsome, in a relatable third-tier serial killer way. Principled and dependable, loyal and devoted. Until he isn’t. Cue the Psycho theme.
And here’s the thing. I find myself weirded out by your sympathy for his actions. Granted, he spends a lot of time in shadowy thought, seductively whispering in your ear, explaining every rationalisation for what he needs, not wants, to do. No driven, or impulsive urges fuelled by bloodlust. He acts on logic and a desire to correct other people’s bad acts. He kills with the surety of a public executioner, no hesitation about doing what is the best thing at that moment. Completely qualmless.
I catch ‘You’ only sometimes, when I can’t avoid it. A car crash on the way to sleep. Unavoidable and gruesome, but oh so magnetic. And I catch you, savouring the dark, twisted humour, slavering over Joe’s unstoppable sexual athleticism. And then you say, He doesn’t do too badly for a short, skinny Jewish guy, does he?
So there we are. 30 years in and sometimes I think I don’t know you at all. Maybe that’s for the best.
