October 31st 2020
Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. The costumes, the scary movies, the candy, the haunted houses. Seriously, there just isn’t a downside to the holiday.
He secured us tickets to my favorite haunted house—the same one I was planning to go to with my friends, only on a different night.
We had watched plenty of horror movies together when we had date nights, since they were my favorite.
He had told me before that they weren’t his favorite, but he liked watching them with me because it made me happy.
I had no idea how much he hated the holiday until we went to the haunted house together.
The actors did an amazing job as usual, taking us on a tour through the house, the barn, and the field around the haunted mansion.
After the tour was over, I asked him if we could get some food, a haunted house tradition of mine.
But he said he was so miserable he just wanted to go home, that one of the actors had touched him and made him uncomfortable.
I felt so bad that he had such a horrible time that I offered to drive us home so he could rest and try to get rid of his headache.
On the way home, he made it known to me that he thought anyone who enjoyed the holiday was immature and was glad I only went to please my friends and not because he thought I actually enjoyed the event.
I didn’t have it in me to tell him I was usually the one who made the plans for everyone.