scared single

i stayed up late the other night, watching a scary movie starring ewan mcgregor, patricia arquette and nick nolte in this really bad wig. mcgregor was a law student who worked as a night watchman at a morgue and there was a serial killer on the loose (murdering and maiming women, of course) and the usual array of atmospheric nonsense: disappearing corpses, body parts floating in formaldehyde, and these big disturbing trees encased in flapping black plastic.

if it had been 3 in the afternoon, it wouldn't have affected me at all, but by the time the movie was over it was 3 a.m. and there was a grim february wind beating against the windows and, i have to admit, i got totally creeped out.

or, as i like to call it, scared single.

i ran to my bed, pulled the covers up over my head and lay in the dark trying not to think about those trees or that wig or especially those poor dead women (with no eyes!) stacked like cordwood down at the city morgue. but i still jumped at every creak and groan and slap of rain against the glass, convinced that the killer was outside my apartment door, knife in hand.

only to discover come morning that i'd accidentally left my keys in the lock. i may as well have left a "welcome, murderers!" sign on the door.

now, i've lived alone long enough that i don't normally go the nervous nellie route, unless i've been out ghost hunting or paying too much attention to the news or, as in this case, watching the wrong movie. when you live by yourself, you can't afford to be anxious all the time, otherwise you'll end up with rings under your eyes from lack of sleep or a ring on your finger because you can't stand to sleep alone (i.e., scared married).

for singles, fear is a luxury.

after all, when you find a spider the size of a baseball mitt in your bathtub, you're the one who has to get rid of it (my advice: suck it up -- literally -- with a vacuum cleaner). and when you hear an odd tapping noise on your skylight like some disembodied hand scratching against the glass, it's you who has to inch your way into the spare room to see if you're being terrorized by a crow or the claw.

when you live alone, you're it -- security guard, psychiatrist and soothing bedtime storyteller. sure, you may have company from time to time, but chances are when that fuse blows out in the middle of the night, you're the one who has to slowly descend the basement stairs, just like the doomed heroine in all those bad slasher films.

except most people who live alone have enough sense not to watch that crap (as hard as that may be this time of year), because they know if they do they'll spend the rest of the night peering into closets like some crazed fundamentalist.

not that it's always easy to keep a cool head, especially when there are so many things to be afraid of, some of which may be lurking in your refrigerator (slimy cilantro! moldy cheese! that blue egg!).

slipping and falling in the bathtub has always been high on my list of single-life scares. and my friend carly worries about choking on popcorn while engrossed in a movie. my neighbor mike, on the other hand, says the only thing that scares him is a conservative republican (and, you have to admit, the thought of ann coulter's bony hand shooting out from under the bed to grab your leg is pretty frightening).

to combat the creeps, many singles use protection (no, not that kind). my buddy adin, who lives in a creaky old house, keeps a baseball bat under the bed and a small fan going in the corner of her room, its white noise drowning out the midnight whispers of phantom burglars and bogeymen. another friend, michelle, has a bodyguard (or "buddy" guard), an 80-pound dog with large teeth and a menacing bark.

some singles have found fear to be a boon to their love lives. james, who's now married, says that when he was in the dating game he used to rent horror movies in hopes his dates would be too freaked out to be left alone. but even today, he's not sure who was playing whom.

"it always seemed to work, but i still don't know if it was the scary movie or my charm," he told me. "or if my new lady friend was just using the 'i'm too scared, can you sleep over?' ploy to get me into bed."

being outmaneuvered by a date -- now that's scary!

for the most part, though, i've found that while singles occasionally will get the jitters, it's the folks in relationships who can't take being alone for any length of time.

"it's like every single sound in the house is amplified whenever my wife leaves," one friend explained. "when someone else is here, i can rationalize the noises away, but when i'm alone i find myself checking under the bed every night."

as one who's done her share of bed checks and bathroom night lights and late-night phone calls to friends over the years, i can relate. it's tough wrangling an overactive imagination -- even more so when it's not yours.

"you realize, of course, that the killer could have made a wax impression of your key while it was hanging out there," my friend sara told me the other night over drinks. "which means he'll be able to come into your apartment at any time."

cold comfort for these blustery february nights. slumber party, anyone?