Worst Halloween Ever: A Dating Horror Story

Guys, it’s time for that time honored tradition! My worst (and only) Halloween date ever! Y’all  probably know this story, but here we go! Buckle up kids. It’s scary story time.

Back in college, a very cute boy asked me out. And duh I said yes. We shall call cute coed Sarge. Many people think a first date on Valentine’s Day is the worst mistake you could make. Maybe, but Halloween is definitely a close second. As a matter of fact, just avoid first dates around any type of holiday: Christmas, Labor Day, Chocolate Appreciation Day… whatever. Just don’t do it. It’s a trap. Back to the story.

The Set Up:

Sarge laid out the best date plan ever. We’d go out on Halloween. We’ll go to dinner, to the Haunted House and then to this awesome party. This particular club knows how to get festive, so obvs the party is going to be amazing. Now I was pretty cute back then and cute get away with slightly sexy Halloween costumes. Not “Duh, I’m a mouse” sexy, but I looked good. I was a 60’s go-go girl. I mean I found legit pleather shorts and white patent knee high boots and everything. Yea. I was cute AF. Sarge dressed up as Zorro. Like… whut. Not exactly a homerun, but I guess if you knew who Zorro even was (I did NOT), it’s points for creativity… not many, but points.

The Beginning:

First was dinner. Let me tell you… the worst dates are the first dates that start out with promise. You’re tricked into letting your guard down. After a great conversation filled dinner, we head to the Haunted House. So the haunted house let us through in groups of 4-6 at a time. I guess you’re more likely to be traumatized that way and that means they’ve done their job. Our group had the two of us leading the way through the haunted house. Yay. So this is where Sarge reaches for my hand. Awww cute. Educated Army guy is totally pulling that “I’ll protect you if you’re scared” move. But he’s actually squeezing my hand pretty tight. Like my fingers are turning blue kind of tight. Oh cool. My “manly” Army dude is scared. Totally fine. I only agreed to this haunted house idea because I thought he was the brave one. Shit. And we’re leading the group. Double shit. Miraculously, I make it through this scary ass house without peeing my self or making a general ass out of me. Proud moment.

The Beginning of the End:

MY DATE  on the other hand was jumpy AF. We make it through to the end of this freaking house, all the creepy characters line up to tell us bye like a demented Disney send-off, and as we’re leaving some asshole in a clown mask and overalls jumps out at us with a revving chainsaw! Motherf***er! Of course, we all scream (we’re all technically strangers, but at this point, we’ve bonded by this spooky shit so we’re basically best friends) and my date, MY BRAVE MILITARY COLLEGE MAN, lets out the highest pitched scream I have ever heard in my life. Y’all know Ned Flanders from The Simpsons? Yea, that. If Ned had sucked on a helium balloon and someone shoved a megaphone down his throat, then yea… nailed it. As he’s screeching like a basic ass horror movie extra, this bitch grabs me by the shoulders and hides behind me. YES! This almost 6 foot “man’s man” used my 5’2″ 100 pound ass as a human shield. Like what the actual eff?! You know how I know I wasn’t being irrationally pissed at this? Chainsaw Clown stopped in the middle of terrifying us, put his chainsaw down, looked at thrift shop Zorro and said “dude that’s so fucked up.” And then the scary clown hugged me. In case you weren’t following that closely, the haunted house is where our date spiraled hard. Not only did Scary Clown break character to hug me, one of the other couples offered me a ride home and the third couple asked if I wanted to go with them to their next Halloween thing. Yea. EVERYONE pitied ya girl J. That was quite the esteem booster right there.

The 2nd Chance:

But your girl stuck it out. Yea I know. I’m dumb. Or nice. Whatever-same thing. I mean it couldn’t get worse than being used as a human shield right? That was the low point of the whole night… no, you dumb bunny. Wait… there’s more. Ya girls isn’t just a dumb bunny. She’s an optimistic dumb bunny. The Halloween party was a couple blocks away from the haunted house, so we figured we would walk. Both places were downtown and parking is a monster task… this was not a negative point situation. So anyway, you know that cute costume I was wearing? Yea. Everywhere else, it was obvious what I was dressed like: an adorable 60’s girl. However, walking downtown at night in lime green pleather hot pants and patent leather knee high platform boots… well I just looked like a hooker. And I got a few offers. Fanfuckingtastic. This night gets sweller and sweller. In the course of 3 hours, I’ve gone from great dinner date to human shield to prostitution whore. (@ me if you know where this is from. Or don’t.)

The End of the End:

TBH the Halloween party was what I was looking forward to most. This club was one of the funnest and definitely my favorite at the time. They knew how to get down and keep the vibes positive. Okay: some backstory on the club. It’s a gay club. That’s it. Everyone knew and nobody that went cared or went to start trouble. It was a be your sassy ass self because we love you anyway place. As far as nightlife goes, this place was my happy place. This place offered redemption for the night. Hopes were set. And once we walked in, they were dashed. The most gorgeous He-Donna (I promise you this is what she called herself. And He-Donna was gorgeous) asked us if we wanted to order a drink. That’s when Sarge got close to me. Like. Stuck. Stuck to me… I’m talking nuts to butt, GTFO my personal space, what the hell is wrong with you kind of stuck to me. At this point, I’m super sick of his shit and flat out ask him ” what the hell?!” And as if nothing, this idiot explains he wants everyone to understand that we’re together and he doesn’t want to get hit on.

So many problems with this homophobic statement, but I’ll narrow it down to two:

1. He should have thought about “being mistaken for gay” *cue major eye roll* before he stepped out in his momma’s black hammer pants and an eyeliner moustache painted on.
2. The club is filled with beautiful people with amazing vibes. Nobody’s going to be hitting on him. ESPECIALLY when I tell everyone who tries to talk to us about what went down a few blocks away.

To sum up: Nobody wants you. Not even me at this point.

The Lesson:

It was a long night. I’m proud to say I lasted an hour there. A whole hour because I absolutely loved that place. Cannot express this enough. Only an hour because I couldn’t ditch him long enough to find another ride home and once I realized he wasn’t getting away from me, I pretended to hurt my ankle so we could leave.

This was the last haunted house I ever voluntarily (and involuntarily) have gone into. This was also the last time I agreed to be picked up for a date. Now I just meet my dates in my own car so I can flee on my terms.

Finally:  never agree to go on a first date on any holiday: even Halloween.