There are, to date, 352 episodes of everybody's favorite police procedural, Law and Order: Special Victims Unit , and I can safely claim to have seen around 350. In addition to revealing that I am a TV-loving bum, this also means that I am now terrified of everything. The titular "special victims" are typically women (me) and children (me when the show premiered) who live in New York (me again). Let me repeat: I am an SVU perp's ideal victim. When I moved to the city last year, my mom ran down the list of classic mom-isms: "Don't walk alone at night," "Don't talk to strangers," "Please don't move away, you're my little girl," etc. While these are all excellent points, I made the move anyways—but now that I'm in The Most Horrifically Murderous City In The World At Least According To SVU, I make sure to keep my wits about me. And by "keep my wits about me", I clearly mean "immediately think that every neighbor I have and everyone I see on the street is currently involved in a protracted plan to kill me" thanks to my good pals, Benson and Stabler.
Hardened by years of exposure to kidnapping, sexual assault, murder, and every other heinous crime imaginable, I'm ready to live in New York. I'm ready to mistrust all passersby. I'm ready to call 911 at a moment's notice. I'm ready to enter witness protective custody if need be! (Seriously, anyone on any episode of any iteration of Law and Order who denies a protective detail will—spoiler!—be brutally slain within the next five minutes. Why do they keep rejecting it?!)
The stages of falling into the SVU paranoia trap are as follows:
This show is so exciting!!
I literally can't stop watching!
Ok, that [insert plot line here] was a little extreme.
But I still love it!
Wait, did they really just find a decapitated head in a car?
Are all teen girls in NYC secretly prostitutes, or just in SVU land?
Whatever, I still love it.
Wait—How did the killer get in that woman's apartment when the doors and windows were all locked?!
Is that gonna happen to me?
It's definitely gonna happen to me.
Maybe I should add a few more locks to my door.
And maybe I will never post anything online ever again.
Burning people alive?! Really?!
Note to self: dark alleys=murder dens. EVERY DARK ALLEY.
Well, I'm not going to that neighborhood anymore. Time to find a new favorite sushi restaurant.
Or that part.
Actually, I should probably just stay inside for the rest of my life.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE DIDN'T GET JAIL TIME?! Who's going to protect the victim?! Who's going to protect me?!
This show is...exhausting. Do I even enjoy it anymore?
Side note: My roommate leaves every Wednesday night with a "gym bag"—it's definitely just full of murder tools, right?
It totally is.
OK, gonna put some locks on my bedroom door too.
I wonder if they make security chains for windows.
Why is my cat looking at me like that?
IS MY CAT A MURDERER?!
"911, I would like to report my cat as a MURDERER!"
*Decides 911 operator is secretly a psychopath who can now see my address; decides to move to new apartment after watching one more episode*
4 episodes later: Why am I still watching this?
Images: NBC; Giphy (29)