Halloween night didn’t feel right for me, it was the first holiday to die due to a broken marriage and it was the first time I wasn’t with friends due to a broken friendship. Suddenly I was alone and the magic I usually felt on Halloween was busy accompanying someone more deserving, all I had was a boyfriend who didn’t want a whore even after I had disclosed I didn’t want to be like that anymore. His persistence pestered and I proved him right. I was a whore for attention, admiration, laced flirtations and Halloween was no exception.
That’s how we began, two disrespectful fools drinking under the neon ghosts hanging from the ceiling, dancing along with our sins while the liquor convinced us it was guiltless. I was slipping under the sedation of a few jello shots with someone I had just met at my then boyfriends party. The Smiths were playing, we were the only ones dancing, and I was ignoring the stares from my boyfriend. I’m not sure what attracted me to him but I had developed a crush in minutes. I blame the instant attraction on his choice of costume. He was dressed as Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction, I was the only one who had guessed correctly. The long hair and bolo tie combo had caught me off guard and suddenly I was fixated on knowing his name. I honestly gave him more attention than my boyfriend that night. I was trying to replace the loneliness with something far more soothing, a strangers grip on my swiveling hips and a glass of vodka to the lips. I swear we didn’t exchange more than a few words, but the lust was there and it was more than apparent because more than one friend wanted to step in and squash it.
Near the end of the night I was telling him how handsome he was with his long hair and his collared shirt, I had misplaced my cares along with my bunny ears. It was just dancing and innocent flirting, that’s all it is and that’s all it will be. My clouded mind didn’t believe the lie and neither did anyone else, and I made that clear when I had given my number out. I handed the phone back extending my arm past my boyfriend with a smile and a promise. This isn’t the end and you’re not just a friend. He was the last to leave and I think he was waiting for me, but I was blacked out in a bedroom being groped by I don’t know who.
That’s all I remember, I was a drunken girl flirting with the possible romance of someone new, the next day I acted like I didn’t remember giving out my number but I was anxious for a call. Terrified of being mislead by a guy in a costume, was he really a babe or was he just a fantasy for me? Did I just want to live out my dream of being a pretty leading lady in a Quentin Tarantino movie ? I soon found out because my boyfriend had rightfully dumped me the same day my Vincent Vega called.We made a date as soon as we could for the following Monday at a club we both loved. He was a babe,the costume wasn’t a lie, he was as cool and charming as the character he portrayed and Halloween wasn’t the last time that I would pull him onto the dance floor.
We’ve seen each other a few times since then, almost recreating that night of reckless fun. Now its not as fun anymore, I receive a lot of calls and texts from him around 2AM, somewhere near last call when the strays are kicked out of the bars. I’m no fool and I’m aware that I’m being used. I want to be his whore, but I’m scared of the day when he doesn’t want me anymore.
It’s one year later, he just texted me an obscenity, I told him about a Halloween party; he’ll probably bail on me and I’ll pretend I don’t care.
Happy anniversary baby.