Yesterday I was listening to a storytelling podcast, which I do almost every morning (find my current faves here), and one of the stories was about a man who was super into Jeffrey Dahmer (he didn’t know it was JD) and would go to the gay bar in his area in hopes of getting hit on by him (this was obviously before JD was arrested for being a serial killer). He described JD as being super hot and I was like, was he hot? So I made a terrible mistake and Googled “pics of Jeffrey Dahmer,” and immediately regretted it. One, he’s cute in that weird “I wear a non-ironic mustache kind of way,” but it’s kind of hard to be objective when you know he’s a psycho. Two hours later, I was deep in a dirty, deranged, demonic rabbit hole of whatthefuckery. I felt super gross and worried about our species because what is wrong with us that we can produce that level of lunatic? I mean, we have a total meltdown if a lion goes rogue and kills a few people or a shark takes off a leg, but we seem much less terrified as a species of the horrors one of our own is capable of. I felt sad for all of his victims and terrible for their families but for whatever reason, I couldn’t look away. At least, not until I was fully traumatized and remembered that I’d have to sleep at some point and there’s no way that was going to happen with murderer images bouncing around my brain. I don’t know about you, but I can’t watch or read anything too dark otherwise it torments me for weeks (hello, anxiety!).
Thankfully, one of my best friends slept over that night which helped me focus on something less creepy. And I binge watched puppy videos. And a little Vampire Diaries. And then Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. And I eventually fell asleep after checking the locks 25 times, coming up with a flawless escape plan, and having a pep talk with my dog about the importance of house-guarding.
Lesson learned: Never Google whether or not a serial killer was attractive or not. Just assume not and read about Orcas instead.