Repost: My Worst Halloween Ever

Because it’s spooky season, here’s a repost of  my worst Halloween ever. 

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

Back in college, a very cute boy asked me out. Let’s 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. Here we go.

Prologue:

Sarge laid out the plan for our Halloween date. We’ll do dinner, visit a haunted house and then to this awesome club party. 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 alright. I was a 60’s go-go girl. I mean I found legit lime green pleather shorts and white patent knee high boots and everything. Yea. I was cute AF. Sarge dressed up as Zorro. I didn’t know who Zorro is (still not sure, but that is who he said he was) and I couldn’t get passed him wearing his mom’s balloon pants and eyeliner. He’ll look better in dimmer lighting. I just know it. It’s fine.

The Beginning

PSA: the worst dates are the first dates that start out with promise. You’re tricked into letting your guard down because you just assume it’s gonna flow. After a slightly awkward dinner (should have heeded that yellow flag), we head to the Haunted House. The haunted house let us in as groups of 4-6 at a time. It’s easier to terrify small groups of people that way. Sarge and I are in the front of our small group. Dammit. Then Sarge grabs for my hand. Awww cute. He is totally pulling that “I’ll protect you if you’re scared” move. SUPER CUTE! No… wait… he’s kind of squeezing my hand tight. Like my fingers are turning blue kind of tight. F*ck. I only agreed to this stupid haunted house for his bragging a**. Miraculously, I make it through this scary ass haunted house without peeing myself and without any broken fingers.

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 and all the creepy characters line up to tell us bye like demented Disney characters. Then as we’re leaving, some asshole in a clown mask and overalls jumps out at us with a revving chainsaw! Motherf***er! We all scream but my date, THE BRAVE MILITARY MAN, takes it to the next level and lets out the highest pitched scream I’ve ever heard in my life. Y’all know Ned Flanders from The Simpsons? Yea, that. As Dollar Store Mariah Carey is screeching like a basic ass horror movie extra, this dime store Zorro bitch grabs me by the shoulders to use me as a human shield and TOSSES ME IN FRONT OF HIM! ARE YOU F*CKN KIDDING ME?!

The Middle of the End

I am justifiably pissed right now. Chainsaw Clown stops in the middle of terrifying us, puts his chainsaw down, looks at thrift store Zorro and says “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. That was quite the esteem booster right there.
Oh. AND I WILLINGLY HUGGED A CLOWN!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Hope at the End

Your girl stuck it out. I mean it couldn’t get worse than being used as a human shield right? You’d think that was the low point of the whole night… but wait… there’s more. Ya girl 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 I was working if you know what I mean. And I got a few offers. Fanfuckingtastic. This night gets better and better. In the course of 3 hours, I’ve gone from decent dinner date to human shield to prostitution whore. @ me if you know where this is from. Or don’t.

The End of the End

The Halloween party was what I was looking forward to most. This club was one of my favorites at the time. Positive vibes were everywhere here. It was a gay club and everyone knew and nobody  cared and it was just fun AF.  Redemption would happen here if anywhere. 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 FLAWLESS) asked us if we wanted to order a drink. Sarge got close to me. Like. 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?!” This human fart tells he doesn’t want to get hit on.

So many problems with this homophobic statement, but I’ll narrow it down to three:
1. If he’s gonna be homophobic, maybe 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. When I tell everyone who tries to talk to us about what went down at the haunted house, ain’t nobody gonna want your weenie a**.
In summation: Nobody wants you. NO.BODY.

3. WHO CARES?!

 

Moral of the Story

It was a long night. I’m proud to say I lasted an hour there and only because I loved that place. 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.