halloween

The only holiday that's never done me wrong is Halloween. This year was everything I dreamt while stitching a costume out of a $1 floor mat the night before.

A late start turned into shots at every bar along a long and winding street. Offered SPAM and sexual favors from second year University students, some more attractive than others, we soldiered on. The favorite-bar-band-ever did not disappoint; the set was quick and dirty and everyone was dressed up (fun fact: they're touring to my favorite dive bars in select US AND Canadian cities I love over the next month, because we're soulmates. All five of us. In a non-sexual way.) I saw a robot crushing a girl against a wall in an attempt to make out with her. Magic was in the air.

The night concluded with an incident where a convenience store clerk removed some beef jerky from me with sympathy like I was a small child as a dude tried to pick me up by giving me a taquito (I had just convinced him to buy one and then explained I didn't eat such things) while being 'outed' as a professional by a guy I had a minor crush on a few years ago who used to be our regular waiter at drunk-wing-monday nights. As in, I'm sad-face about not getting any beef jerky as some dude is trying to purchase my love while another dude dressed as possibly Satan yells "YOU'RE A [insert profession here]" and I indignantly respond "NOT YET!"

I spent the morning after dancing around in the living room entertaining R, who finds my preschool style costume choices endearing (this may have explained the casual beef jerky removal). I dropped my hat on the floor beside his pirate costume at about 4 am, stumbling in to his house.

My life there was amazing for five years, this halloween an odd love letter goodbye, knowing that it may not happen again and that we both may be changing. Did it make me who I am or just let me become who I was always going to be? The best relationships are mired in both, and of everything loved and lost in those five years the city may be the one I react to with a visceral happiness whenever we meet.

My door guy graduates this year. E is leaving and M is already gone, my graduating class is fading quickly into the labeled anonymity of cap and gown pictures on a wall. All the parties seem inconsequential and quaint, so long ago, like a season of a television program. If I live in that city again, R and I will be making a run at something like domesticity.