(First thing's first. Thanks for all the sweet comments on the costume. Praise the writer, not the sewer. I didn't make that. It came from Target. But yeah, she looks pretty dang cute in it.
Here's a repost of a column I wrote in my single days, before I met Wylee. Happy Halloween!) A lot of people would say that Thanksgiving or Christmas are the hardest holidays to experience as a single, but not me. Christmas and Thanksgiving are family holidays, when bringing a date to dinner is not a requirement. Sure, you may have to deal with your mother lamenting over the fact that she may never be a grandmother, but at least you have the pleasure of eating her homemade pumpkin pie afterwards.
Other people would say that Valentine’s Day is the loneliest holiday for the single girl. Again, I disagree. Although this is a holiday for couples, I can usually round up enough single girls for a great male bashing, margarita imbibing, slumber party. We spend the night listening to powerful I-am-woman-hear-me-roar singers like Madonna and Aretha Franklin. It makes the thought of not getting flowers or candy that day much easier to bear.
No, the absolute worse holiday for a single person is Halloween. October 31st is pitifully depressing for the unfortunate dateless individual. There is no “Halloween Dinner” at Grandma’s house. Your married friends are all passing out candy to the neighborhood children, and your single friends are all at costume parties.
My friend Vanessa and her boyfriend dragged me to a Halloween party last year. They were dressed as a matching hippie couple, following the unwritten rule that all couples must wear related costumes. I went as one of those Victorian women who get bitten in Interview With a Vampire, with the white wig and the long gown with the fitted waist and large back bustle, but nobody could tell what I was. It defeats the purpose of dressing like the victim of a vampire when there’s no vampire around to do the biting. I finally gave up trying to explain it to people, and started saying that I was dressed as Little Bo Beep.
“Oh, I think I saw your date a few minutes ago,” one girl told me. “Is he dressed as a sheep?”
The joke’s on you if you think anybody’s going to hit on you at a Halloween party. Everybody’s in costume, all pretending to be someone they’re not. Nobody wants to see what’s really behind the mask. I thought I was going to get lucky when I saw a group of men at the party checking me out. They would look at me, look at each other, look at me again, and smile. I finally sauntered up to them to say hi in my most seductive manner, but this only caused them to burst out laughing.
“What’s going on?” I asked, when their laughter continued for several minutes.
Finally, one of the guys confessed. “We can’t tell if you’re a guy or a girl,” he said. “We’re judging the contest, and if you’re a guy, you’ve got it locked down for best costume.”
“And if I’m not?”
Needless to say, I did not win best costume, and my night quickly came to an end.
This year is going to be better. I am more confident, more sure of myself. I am in charge of my life. I don’t need a date to validate my existence! This year, I’m going to all my friends’ parties, single and proud, and ready to face all situations head on! I am woman! Hear me roar: RAH!
At the same time, if any guy has a sheep costume out there, I make a great Bo Peep.
(Oh, you thought I made that up, like the poem in the last post? Nope. This one really happened. I was the Victorian chick, my BFF was a hippie, and yes, people questioned whether or not I was a guy. Happy Friggin' Halloween to me.)
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