This is something that several people will readily back up, so I’m confident in making the claim. Several horror movie aficionados have stated that if you’re going to a horror movie, I’m a good person to bring along. Every girly reaction you can have is an instant reflex for me. I scream at all the cheap thrills- like when the music jolts and the main character’s boyfriend pops out from behind the door because he’s playing a stupid trick on her. The stupid cheap scream gags, you know? Those work on me.
And during the really scary parts I will put my hands over my eyes and then watch from between my fingers. Or bury my head into someone’s shoulder going “No… no… no…” I also, I’ve been told, jump and flail my arms about as if trying to ward off an attack. Once, while watching Psycho for the first time, my father reached out and grabbed my ankle right as Norman bates was about to stab a guy in the forehead. I could swear my head touched the ceiling.
When at home, I will yell at the characters for being stupid. “Don’t go in there! He’s in there, you idiot! Don’t- oh, man- I freakin’ told you!” Or “Seriously? You seriously think going into the abandoned amusement park is a good idea right now? I hope you die, you deserve it!” Or “Really? Now’s the right time to become courageous when you’ve been paranoid your whole life? Moron!” They never listen to me.
And yet, in spite of being scarred out of my wits, I also enjoy the inevitable gore that comes at the hands of the masked killer or monster. I’ve been known to exclaim excitedly when people’s body parts go flying or a weapon is embedded in a limb. I praise the killer’s ingenuity when they kill someone in a new and spectacular way.
And afterwards, no matter how scarred I was at the time, I will talk about how much I thoroughly enjoyed it. And chances are, when the next big movie comes out that everyone saying is “shit your pants scary” I’ll be wanting to see it on opening night.