I despise Halloween. No, scratch that. I love actual Halloween. I can spend the entire day watching Hocus Pocus on repeat and gnawing on candy corn pumpkins. I loved trick or treating as a kid way-too-old-high-school-senior. I have great memories of putting together awesome, homemade, creative costumes. And by “putting together” I am obviously referring to watching my mom slave over a sewing machine while I shouted instructions and corrections and the occasional constructive criticism: “You call this a magician’s cape, THIS tarp of a fabric!?!?!”
But that all ended freshman year of college when Halloween went from a fun night out in a costume to a slutfest in a frat house. I was appalled by the slutty bumblebees, the slutty orangutans, the slutty crayon girls. What was going on?! Why was no one even trying to be clever, smart, witty, or even scary? I’m totally cool with a horrifying witch. I’m not cool with a horrifyingly disturbing portrayal of a witch doing a strip tease wearing nothing but a hat and a carefully placed broom. And not only was I surrounded by sexy-everything, but I was smushed into a frat party, unable to get to the bar, unable to move, and unable to give the sexy fairy in front of me a proper elbow jab for shoving her 9-foot wings into my FACE. Everyone in the entire university was out for Halloween…and it seemed all shoved into the same three sweaty frat parties. Like really, kid-who-never-showers-and-is-always-studying-in-the-lounge – YOU’RE OUT!?!?
And for the next two years it went like that. I would put a considerable amount of time and effort trying to come up with clever costume, only to confuse everyone else who couldn’t figure out what witty statement I was trying to make. By junior year I thought I had it down pat. I went as “Sexy Overload” and wore half a sexy devil costume, half a sexy angel costume, half a sexy bunny costume, and half a sexy costume. I was making a statement. Get it? It’s all sooooo stupid.
No one got it. Everyone was like “oooo sexy devil cat. loves it! get in the photo gurl!”
Senior year I was like f it. I’ll show them how unsexy I can be. I’ll be a dining hall worker. Just a regular dining hall worker. This one backfired immediately. My costume was too good. Everyone moved away from me in the party (finally a little bit of space) and was like “umm can you change before you come back?”
And all I could think when this girl asked me to leave the party was look at yourself, look at what you’re wearing, how did you walk past a mirror and say wow “I’m a very slutty Cabbage Patch Doll and I like it!” Think about your life choices. Think about the tagged photos. Take a moment and pull your life together.
So yeah, Halloween in college was a complete and total failure for me. Not only did I never have fun at the parties, but I felt like the only one who saw through the whole sham. It’s just another frat party. Except at this one, you’re being pushed out of the beer line by a girl who actually thought it was okay to buy a pre-packaged sexy dandelion costume.
This year, while everyone else stresses about going to the right parties and putting on the right amount of glitter, I’ll be home alone, curled up on the couch (surrounded by Take 5 wrappers) watching Hocus Pocus. Because nothing says Halloween more to me than Sarah Jesssica Parker singing come little children, I’ll take thee away.