Halloween is finally upon us, and I’m already pretty Halloweened out.
Some of you dear readers may remember how my wife and I are hardcore Halloweeners, and this year was no different.
Our costumes?
A bit wild, as we portrayed vamped-up versions of a gorgon and minotaur, a Clash of the Titans-meets-Mad Men affair known as Diva Medusa and Classy Minotaur.
I never knew that having Halloween on a Thursday is a special thing, until this year. Because it’s not Friday, the big parties happen the weekend before, but Thursday is close enough to the weekend that some events go down that night and into the weekend.
Two weekends of party? Don’t mind if I do.
I may find a costumed affair in New York with a friend, but this past weekend the wife and I spent Friday the 25th at an art museum, Saturday at a artsy town parade with pals, and Sunday afternoon at a daytime shindig.
As we were deciding our costumes, and watched our friends do the same, we knew what was coming. We’re pretty liberal and feminist around here, so there was quite a bit of Facebook and IRL discussion about how that the dominance of the lingerie-as-costume trend had not abated one bit.
Not that I’m opposed to sexy costumes, but it’s crazy that stripperwear has become nearly the only options for women of undiscriminated size. And it growns increasingly absurd, from sexy nurse to sexy pizza to sexy penguin. Or sexy Indian for double-offensiveness.
The wife and I don’t really play that. But that hasn’t meant much on these Halloweens stuffed with costumed lust and sartorial abandon.
The thing is, I’ve been the objectified one! It’s true!
A wrestler costume from 2011, which was supposed to be funny, got a man following me down the block and talking about my butt. But that was less uncomfortable than being petted in my Superman costume last year – by a 12-year-old girl at Disney World. (She said my costume was “nice” and grabbed my arm. I had my hands to the sky and looked straight at her mom, like, “Da fuh?”)
But this year was the worst yet, as people attempted to undress me – twice. Friday night at the museum, my wife and I were on the dance floor when a Dia De Los Muertos woman sloppily latched onto me, grabbing me by the back of the neck and grinding into my furry legs. She was very, very drunk, slurring out words about being naughty.
My wife? Standing right next to this mess. My arms raised, I shot her a look of “Help!” and “I’m not doing anything!”
But when Drunky McSlutty started undoing the sash on my smoking jacket and trying to shove her hands into the fur pants, is when the farce had to end. I took her by the shoulders, said, “I’m gonna go dance with my wife now!” and she slinked away, as if she were repelled by fidelity.
Think that was bad enough? Think again.
Saturday night we were hanging out in the awesome town of Collinsville, seeing friends and ready for their annual Halloween parade and festivities.
Some people who saw at eat dinner in a local pub came up to say hi. Things are going well at this point, until one woman asks about my furry beast legs. “Are they warm?” she says, and I say they are. “I wanna take ’em!” she shouts, and places her hands on my legs twice, trying to pull them off me.
I’m holding the pants up from this attack, and my wife says in a raised voice, “Can you not try to take off my husband’s pants?” She ran off with her friends, but her girlfriend came back to pet my furry hat.
Good grief.
And later, that same night, we ran into the drunk groper from Friday night!
Now, look: I know that, in the grand scheme of things, this is all small potatoes. I was unharmed, though unsettled. I recognize my privilege as a man, that I don’t live under the threat of such aggressive objectification at all times. That I wouldn’t be physically restrained by these women and could push them aside or walk away.
My party weekend was amazing nonetheless, filled with friends and laughter and awesome, awesome costumes. Some of them sexy, but no one objectifying when not asked for.
Little did I know that my bulkiest costume yet would involve all this. Is this my price for hardcore Halloweening? No. These are just people behaving poorly. At least one had the excuse of not being in her right mind, but I wonder what about me would draw them in the first place?
It’s given me a lot to think about.
