Happy Halloween!

I thought I was making a huge mistake. I had accepted an invitation to dinner from my ex-boyfriend’s best friend and roommate. The two of us had bumped into each other at a party, and I was surprised to learn he was not the grouchy, grumpy guy I had seen previously only in passing. Later I realized this was going to be very awkward and I immediately regretted agreeing to go.

He wined and dined me, dinner alfresco at the Kaleidoscope in Coconut Grove, drinks at the Grand Bay’s piano bar, and two more stops at late night clubs before we returned to his place and sat out all night talking on the lifeguard stand in front of his apartment.

Two days later we were headed down to Key West for Fantasy Fest, a possibly more debauched Halloween version of Mardi Gras. We miraculously located a hotel room in about five minutes without a reservation, ran into Bugsy McGraw sitting alone on a bench, a former professional wrestler working as a bouncer at Sloppy Joe’s that we both recognized from too many childhood Saturday afternoons watching TV, who gave us the Fantasy Fest ’85 tee shirt right off his back, I still have it, and generally had a fabulous time.

From then on, we considered Halloween our anniversary.

After five years of cohabitation, we decided to make it legal. We had the license, which had been taped back together at one point after a rather heated disagreement, and made plans for a small, private ceremony with a few close friends. We arranged to rent a cottage in Key West, on Love Lane, for a weekend, fly eight friends down, get married at the freak show that is sunset at Mallory Square, and charter a deep sea fishing trip the next day for everyone on a private boat.

It soon got out of hand as other friends, acquaintances, and family got wind of it and made plans to join us, invited or not. They began planning a reception for us. Now, neither one of us had ever wanted to have the traditional walk-down-the-aisle-be-the-center-of-attention-reception type of wedding, so plans were cancelled.

At work, on Halloween, I received a call from G, wishing me a happy anniversary and inviting me to lunch with him in Fort Lauderdale. We met, I got in his car, and he surprised me by pulling up to the courthouse a few minutes later, asking if I wanted to get married. The county clerk that performed the service was wearing a clerical collar for a costume, as close as we would ever come to the full-blown church wedding my mother would have liked. We grabbed a bite to eat downtown and went back to work.