The Blessing of the Werewolf

Do you remember the scene in... well I was going to suggest a specific werewolf movie, but it's all of them really.  The werewolf, back in human form, waking up naked in the cold morning light. Unsure exactly where he is. Maybe the taste of last night sill in his mouth. Possibly a few scratches or bite marks. Torn clothing discarded. The quintessential version for me is from American Werewolf in London, waking up in the cage at the London zoo, but there are as many different versions as there are full moons. I suspect you've all done it. 

At some point, possibly after a beautifully prepared meal, some fine wines and an evening of stimulating conversation, possibly just seconds after he walks in the room, there it is. The unmistakable increase in body heat, the rising of blood. As though the full moon had suddenly uncloaked itself then and there in the room with you, its gravity demanding your swoon and fall. And there it is. The animal. The werewolf. 

Who can say what happened next. There are vague memories of unclear shapes, shredded clothing, the smell of sweat and other fluids, echoes of growls and animalistic gruntings. The flush of all consuming life still coursing through your body. Heart still beating fast, lungs still heaving. Then eyes rolling slowly back into the now, and there you are, in birds-eye view at first, out of body but returning. Naked, clothes strewn who-knows-where. The ersatz crime scene. Perhaps you are at the London Zoo, perhaps the kitchen floor or the dining room table. And so is he. Do you even recognise him? Do you even recognise yourself?

The moon has set. The present washes back in. Clothes are found, socks pulled on, ties and belts tightened. Plausible deniability. Perhaps there is a cheeky grin, perhaps a shudder. Maybe even a phone number. The door closes behind him, and still you are left wondering what strange power had possessed you. Safe now, for a moment, from the curse. And you laugh. Partly because the whole act is so ridiculous; partly from the divine release of tension; and partly to mask the fear of knowing that you will transform again, in the blink of an eye, the second the opportunity arises.

Clinical lycanthropy is a rare psychiatric syndrome. Its name is connected to the mythical condition of lycanthropy, a supernatural affliction in which humans are said to physically shapeshift into wolves. Affected individuals report a delusional belief that they are in the process of transforming into an animal or have already transformed into an animal. It has been linked with the altered states of mind that accompany psychosis with the transformation only seeming to happen in the mind and behaviour of the affected person. And maybe the mind of their partner/trade as well. I wonder is it really that rare, or is it actually very widespread but very short lived?

Do straight men feel the same. Maybe they have had it bred out of them, like pedigree dogs that howl at the moon without knowing why. Is it a blessing or a curse? Could you even tell the difference?