My absolute favorite time of the year is cranking it’s neck around. The weather gets cooler, pumpkin spice you-name-it is every where you look, and of course we celebrate Halloween. I adore Halloween. Maybe it’s the fact that you can knock on strangers doors and be given treats. Or maybe I just really like any excuse to dress up.
I feel like I really get my creative juices flowing and start thinking about what I will be.
It can be a lot of pressure. I don’t want to look slutty. I want people to actually know what I’m dressed as. Can I convince Michael to do a couple’s costume? How can I stand out?
All of these things are very important to me.
|A very unconvincing Miley and Billy Ray Cyrus|
But there’s one reason in particular why I love Halloween.
Beware, this tale is not scary but maybe a little on the mushy side. So get over it.
I am notoriously a scaredy cat. I cannot see a scary movie, even when I’m watching TV and a scary commercial comes on for something scary I have to close my eyes, hold my hands over my ears and say out loud “la la la”. I have a very wild imagination and I have bad dreams. Apparently I’m still 9 years old.
Anyway, my favorite Halloween memory was this time 9 years ago. I was a high school senior and I had this big crush on this guy. We had mutual friends and he asked if I’d like to go with him on a “date” that coming weekend. I said yes too fast. I didn’t realize he said the word haunted. Or I did but wasn’t thinking clearly because I was so frazzled with excitement.
Friday night rolled around and I put on my favorite jean skirt and best puka shell necklace to meet up with him, his friend and his friend’s girl friend.
We get to the haunted house and I’m already scared. This doesn’t look very fun at all, why are people walking around with chain saws and with blood dripping down their face? I feel confident since I am with another couple and my *~crush~* so I pretend like this is just fine.
The haunted house was dark and musty and it felt like I might contract a disease. Someone jumps out in front of me and grazes my shoulder. I just start screaming “Don’t touch me! You’re NOT supposed to touch me! HE TOUCHED ME!” I was a bit dramatic.
About halfway through the terror house, my date and his friend decide it would be a good idea to sneak off. At this point I’m real mad. Who the heck is this guy? I’m clearly scared, this is not classy. The girl and I walk through the house, arm in arm, scared of what might jump out next.
We round a corner, thinking we might finally be down with the house, when the boys jump out, almost on top of us, and I swear my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. So I slapped him. Not hard, but enough to show him that was not a cool move.
He can tell I’m clearly upset so escorts me out of the house, says he’s sorry and buys us ice cream. He tells me that we don’t have to go to haunted houses anymore and that he doesn’t really like scary movies. I guess I got over it pretty quickly since I made out with him on the way home.
Moral of the story? This guy was Michael and we are married now and we have never been to a haunted house since. Also, his friend is now one of my best friends (sorry for making out in your car… while you were driving). The girl, is one of my best friends and I’m in her wedding next April.
So, sometimes you have to go to a haunted house. But I guess it’s all worth it in the end.