I walked into the lecture hall on my first day of psychology class, my stomach doing flips like it always did when I started something new. The room was packed with students—some fresh out of undergrad, others like me, a little older, trying to make sense of their lives. I found a seat near the back, trying to blend in, still feeling like I didn't quite belong here yet. But this was the beginning, and I was determined to make it count.
The professor walked in a few minutes later. He was an older man, probably in his late 60s, with a thick white beard and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses that looked like they'd been around for decades. He had this calm, almost grandfatherly presence, but there was something sharp about the way he carried himself, like he had seen it all before and nothing could surprise him anymore.
"Welcome," he said, his voice deep and a little gravelly, like he'd spent years lecturing without a microphone. "This is Psychology 501: Advanced Theories of the Mind. Some of you are here because you love the field of psychology. Some of you are here because you think it'll help you make sense of your own lives. And some of you... well, you're probably here because you didn't know what else to do."
There was a low chuckle from the class, but I just nodded to myself. He wasn't wrong. I was here because I needed to figure out my next step.
The professor paced at the front of the room, his hands clasped behind his back, like he was gearing up for something big. "Today, we're going to talk about a concept that many of you have probably heard of, but few of you have truly understood: the Oedipus effect."
A murmur went through the room. I knew the term, of course. Most people did. It was one of those things that got thrown around in pop culture as shorthand for some creepy mother-complex joke. But the way the professor said it, I knew there was more to it than that.
"Oedipus," the professor continued, "comes from Greek mythology, where the character unknowingly kills his father and marries his mother. But we're not here to talk about Greek tragedies. We're here to talk about the psychological theory that sprang from this myth, thanks to one man: Sigmund Freud."
He stopped pacing and looked out at the room, his eyes scanning the faces of students who were scribbling notes or staring blankly ahead. "Freud believed that, in our unconscious minds, we harbor a secret desire—one that society tells us to repress, but one that exists nonetheless. He called it the Oedipus complex. Freud's theory suggested that all young boys, at some point, develop an unconscious sexual attraction to their mothers and view their fathers as rivals for her affection."
I shifted in my seat, feeling a little uncomfortable. It wasn't exactly the kind of thing you wanted to think about, especially not in a room full of strangers. But this was psychology, and nothing was off-limits.
The professor continued, his voice steady and authoritative. "Now, most people dismiss Freud's ideas today, and there's a good reason for that. Freud had some... interesting theories. But the Oedipus complex is still relevant, especially when we look at how people form attachments, particularly to older women."
At that, my attention perked up. Older women? What was he getting at?
"The Oedipus effect," the professor explained, "is not just about the relationship with one's mother. It's about the unconscious preference that many young men have for older women in general. This stems from the nurturing role that mothers play early in life. Young men, especially in their formative years, often find themselves drawn to women who resemble that nurturing presence—whether they realize it or not."
He paused, letting the words sink in, and then gave a wry smile. "Let's be real. How many of you have found yourselves attracted to women older than you at some point? Maybe it was a teacher, a friend's mom, a mentor, or even a celebrity. And before you start denying it, remember that this isn't about what you think you prefer. This is about what's going on in your unconscious mind."
A few people around me shifted uncomfortably, and I felt my heart beat a little faster. Vanessa flashed into my mind. I couldn't help it. She was the very definition of the kind of older woman the professor was talking about—beautiful, successful, confident. And yeah, maybe part of what drew me to her was the fact that she had her shit together in a way I never had.
The professor chuckled, clearly sensing the unease in the room. "It's not something we like to admit. Society tells us it's taboo, inappropriate, whatever. But the fact is, many young men, whether they realize it or not, are subconsciously drawn to older women because of the role those women play. They represent security, experience, and, for lack of a better word, stability—something that, let's be honest, most young men are desperately searching for."
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. Stability. That hit too close to home. That was exactly what Vanessa had been for me. After everything that had happened—leaving the company, my life falling apart—she had been my rock. She'd helped me when I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and I couldn't deny that there was something comforting about that.
"The Oedipus effect," the professor continued, "isn't just about sexual attraction. It's about the emotional and psychological ties we form with people who remind us of that early nurturing experience. And for many young men, that translates into an attraction to older women who embody those qualities."
He paused, looking out at the room again. "And here's the thing: it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. It's human nature. We're wired to seek out the qualities that make us feel safe, secure, and understood. Older women, by their very nature, often possess those qualities in ways younger women don't."
I stared at the floor, my mind racing. Was that what this was? Had I been chasing that feeling of stability and comfort with Vanessa all along, without even realizing it? The professor's words echoed in my head, and I couldn't help but feel a little exposed, like he had peeled back a layer of my mind that I hadn't even known was there.
As the professor wrapped up his lecture, he gave one final thought: "The Oedipus effect, like many psychological theories, isn't absolute. It doesn't apply to everyone, and it's not something you should feel ashamed of if it does apply to you. But it's worth thinking about—why we're drawn to the people we are, and what that says about us."
The class ended, and I sat there for a moment, letting everything sink in. I couldn't stop thinking about what the professor had said. Older women. Nurturing. Stability. It wasn't just about Freud's weird theories anymore. It was about my life, about my choices, about Vanessa.
I got up, grabbed my bag, and headed out of the lecture hall, my mind still spinning. One thing was for sure: psychology was going to dig up some uncomfortable truths about myself. And I wasn't sure I was ready for all of them.
As I packed up my things after the lecture, my mind was still spinning from everything the professor had said about the Oedipus effect and young men being subconsciously drawn to older women. It hit way too close to home, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the entire class had just peeled back a layer of my life that I wasn't ready to confront.
But this was only my first psychology class, and I needed to get a handle on what I had missed in the earlier sessions. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and glanced around the room, eyeing a couple of students who were still gathering their things. They seemed friendly enough, chatting quietly as they lingered near the back of the room. Figuring I'd better get caught up, I decided to approach them.
I walked over, feeling a little out of place but determined to make some connections in this new environment. There were two of them—a guy in his mid-20s with dark hair and glasses, and a girl around the same age with blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. They looked up when I approached.
"Hey," I said, giving them a half-smile. "I'm Tristan. I'm new to the class, and I missed the first couple of sessions. Just wanted to see if there was anything important I missed that I should catch up on?"
The guy smiled back, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Hey, I'm Jake," he said. "Don't worry, man, you didn't miss much. The professor didn't dive into any heavy stuff until today."
The girl, who had been tying up her backpack, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I'm Rachel. Honestly, he just went over some introductory stuff, like the syllabus and general course expectations. Today was the first day he really got into one of the deeper topics."
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. "Oh, thank God. I thought I was going to be way behind or something."
Jake chuckled. "Nah, you're good. It's only been a couple of classes, and the professor likes to go on these long tangents anyway. You'll catch up fast."
Rachel leaned in a little, lowering her voice. "You came in at an interesting time, though. He's usually not this intense right off the bat. But today? The whole Oedipus complex thing? That caught everyone off guard."
I nodded, glancing back at the front of the room where the professor was packing up his materials. "Yeah, no kidding. I wasn't expecting to dive straight into Freud and all this... older women stuff."
Jake laughed. "Right? It was like, out of nowhere, he's talking about how we all secretly want to date our moms or something."
Rachel rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. "Classic Freud. But to be fair, he did make some points about attraction to older women that hit closer to home than I wanted to admit."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"
She shrugged, a small grin playing on her lips. "Come on, don't tell me you've never had a crush on someone older. It's practically a rite of passage."
Jake chimed in, clearly enjoying where the conversation was going. "I mean, let's be real, we all had that one hot teacher in high school, right? That's basically textbook Oedipus effect, if you ask me."
I laughed, though my mind instantly flickered back to Vanessa. She wasn't just some crush from high school—she was the real deal, an older woman who had taken me under her wing, and now here I was, learning that maybe my subconscious had been playing a bigger role in our relationship than I thought.
"Well, I guess that's one way to look at it," I said, trying to play it cool even though my thoughts were swirling. "I didn't think we'd be jumping straight into that on the first day."
Rachel shook her head, still smiling. "Neither did we. But this professor... he likes to keep us on our toes. One day we're talking about basic theories of development, and the next day he's dropping Freud bombs on us."
"Yeah," Jake added, "he's a bit of a wildcard, but that's what makes the class interesting. You never know what he's going to throw at you."
I nodded, feeling a little more at ease now that I knew I hadn't fallen behind. "Thanks for filling me in. I was worried I'd missed something huge, but sounds like I came in just in time for the real fun."
Rachel shrugged. "You're lucky, honestly. It's been a pretty chill start, but today felt like a whole new level."
I was about to ask what other topics they'd covered so far when Rachel's phone buzzed, and she glanced down at the screen.
"Damn, I have to run," she said, stuffing her phone into her pocket. "But I'll see you around, Tristan. Let me know if you need help with anything else."
"Yeah, same here," Jake said, grabbing his bag. "We're usually hanging around after class if you ever want to catch up or work on any of the assignments together."
I smiled. "Thanks, I appreciate that. I'll definitely take you up on that offer."
Rachel waved as she headed for the door, and Jake followed her out a few seconds later. I stood there for a moment, watching as the other students trickled out of the room. It felt good to know I hadn't missed anything major, and I was already starting to make some connections with the other students. That was a relief in itself.
But as I headed out of the lecture hall and into the cool evening air, my thoughts kept drifting back to what we had discussed in class. The Oedipus effect. The idea that young men, whether they realized it or not, were subconsciously drawn to older women. The professor had thrown that theory out there so casually, but it had landed hard for me.
I couldn't help but think about Vanessa and how much of my life she had been a part of—how she had been there for me when no one else was. And now, with the professor's words ringing in my head, I had to wonder if there was something deeper to my connection with her than I had ever realized.
As I walked through the campus, the sun setting behind the buildings, I found myself lost in thought. Was this what I had been chasing all along? Stability, security, the kind of guidance and support that only someone like Vanessa could give me? Was it really that simple, or was I just overthinking it?
Either way, one thing was for sure: psychology was already messing with my head.
Q: Have you heard of the Oedipus effect before?