Happy Hallow-versary

I love Halloween. It's my favorite holiday. I could skip some of the more daggy holidays, like
Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day and celebrate Halloween a couple more times a year.

Hun and I started dating around Valentine's Day. We were at a party at a mutual friend's, and the party headed to the Mercury Cafe in LoDo to see a band perform. I was working it pretty hard to get Hun to moderately acknowledge my existence, as another guy--not nearly as cute and mysterious as Hun--kept on dropping liberal hints that he dug me. I was trying as hard as possible to avoid the not-as-cute guy for complex political reasons, hoping his attempts at flirtation were just in my head and halfway succeeding at my self-delusion.

At the end of the evening, Hun asked me if I had any plans for Valentine's Day. I told him I had none and went on a tirade about the suckiness of V-Day and the corporate exploitation of the masses. I told Hun I much rather celebrate Halloween. So much for putting the nail in that coffin--pun intended.

My friend who hosted the party then extorted me into hitting on Hun the next day (V-Day), saying he seemed to like me. I said I didn't think so, and he was too young for me anyway--like three years younger than me. She kept on picking at me to do something, for Christ's sake, for the rest of single humanity that didn't have an opportunity. I harumphed and acquiesced to her demands--but on my terms. I sent Hun a Halloween e-card, with two gross-out eyes rolling around a monster's hand, singing I Only Have Eyes for You.

Most guys would have freaked out about some strange chick sending a creepy card and petition for a restraining order. Hun didn't. He laughed, called me up, and asked me to watch Halloween with him for our date. I brought over a pizza and the movie and we sat and talked through the entire John Carpenter masterpiece.

When Hun and I were talking about getting hitched, our original plan was to get married today instead of July. (It's a good thing we changed our mind, since we got a nice vacation out of the deal and got to see friends and family with us instead of standing in front of a judge. It's also a good thing because I have some anal-Exorcist thing going on today.)

We celebrated our 1-year dating anniversary by going to the Stanley Hotel of Shining fame as well. We got the most out of our stay, Hun being the industrious sort he is. We ran around the hotel after dinner that night, taking pictures of anything looking remotely spooky. Hun got a shot of some guy in a white baseball cap with mojo camera equipment without a flash. It looked quite ghostly and he was prodigiously proud. We encountered a gaggle of young women who were also running around with their own cameras, freaking each other out as well. Hun was hungry to show his "ghost" photo to see how they would react. Another guy was nearby, attempting to attract some kind of positive attention from them. He was saying he was a ghost hunter--the ladies were not impressed, and were pleading for Hun to save the day.

"Don't show the picture," I whispered. "They'll flip a gasket."

He didn't, and the girls and the ghost hunter went their merry way.

The next morning, we went on a ghost tour the Stanley offered. We thought it would be free as a guest. We guessed wrong. It was a good tour, talking about all the history of the place, and the tour guide even mentioned that the Ghost Hunters from the TV show were running around with mojo camera equipment, tracking down the supernatural bumps and creaks. Hun and I looked at each other, thinking about that damn "ghost" picture of the guy with the mojo camera and the baseball cap and the "ghost hunter" hitting on the ladies the night before. They were the Ghost Hunters. We brushed against minor celebrity and didn't even shudder at the sudden chill in the air.

Hun also saw the opportunity for hauntingly glowing irony. "Don't show the picture," I warned him again. "Don't do it!" That image of the cameraman walking down the staircase in blurry and spectral spookiness was burning a hole in his camera. He had to show someone. I hid behind a plant while he was showing his handiwork to the tour guide.

Needless to say, the tour guide was impressed and we didn't pay a dime.