I’ve got three *species* of vampires, ranging from sexy to, well, gross. In history, each culture has their own version, and it’s here that I found my playground from which to draw ideas for how I’d approach the beasties. Vampires, like Christian Grey, might be considered predators, but to what extent?
There’s something visceral about a sexual predator– and vampires are, make no mistake– that dances on the edge of cultural conscience between fascination and disgust. Vampires scare the hell out of some people because their abilities remove control, and thus, agency. Yet, many of us think of vampires as elegant criminals rather than hideous beasts. Why?
I chose to give one of my vampires a single, thin fang that slips into an artery, draining away life as the victim is mounted in a tangle of sexual heat and confusion. Sure, two fangs seem balanced, but in biological terms, wouldn’t one do the trick? For me, it worked. For others, there’s an appeal to the symmetry of a beast with two fangs, eyes flashing with promise of things that are illicit and dangerous.
Does this mean we’re all, in a way, adrenaline junkies? Is this the ultimate risk, in terms of sexuality? You give in to the monster: you die.
Or worse.
I wonder how we let the violation of vampires slip through our collective mind, shifting from the ultimate predator into something to be desired, even sought out. It’s a long trip between those two states of being, or is it? Is this a question of domination and submission, or is it something even more simple: the fulfillment of sexual pleasure through fantasy?
I ask these questions because of erotica in general, and the film Fifty Shades Darker hits theaters. As a casual observer, the phenomenon of women– adult, independent, educated– embracing the concept of submission is nothing short of fascinating. Is it because we fear asking for what we want, and it takes a monster to give it to us? For that matter, how often is anyone truly honest with their partner? There’s a fine line between thrill and disgust, a vague demarcation that lovers may never cross in their hunt for the thing they want most.
Is it also tied to the appearance of the monster, so to speak? I’ve always thought that we tolerate far more brutal behavior from beautiful people. Is this true? Are we conditioned to forgive, based on an expectation of cruelty from that which is deemed perfect and beautiful?
In a sense, I think we are. That’s why vampires (and Christian Grey) aren’t shunned. They’re embraced. Desired.
I think it’s as good a time as any to ask yourself, “What do I really want?”. If you can be honest, then you’re with the right person.