I gotta be honest, I used to hate Halloween as a couple. It felt so… performative. You scramble for a couple’s costume, you go to some overcrowded party where you shout small talk over terrible music, and you come home with a headache, your relationship no better or worse for the wear. It was just… a thing you did.
Then a few years back, my wife and I said, “screw it.” We were tired. We bailed on the big party we were supposed to go to. And we had the best Halloween of our lives.
We didn’t do anything groundbreaking. We just decided to make the night about us instead of about everyone else. And that, it turns out, is the secret sauce.
So if you’re tired of the same old scene, let me pitch you on a different kind of Halloween. One that’s less about proving you have a social life and more about reminding you why you like the person you’re with.
The “No-Pants, All-Scares” Night In
This is our go-to now. But it’s an event. It’s not just watching a movie.
First, you have to build a nest. I’m serious. Get every blanket and pillow in the house and build a legit fort on the couch. It feels silly until you’re inside it with a bowl of popcorn, and then it feels like genius. The world disappears.
The movie list is key. You can’t just pick one. You need a lineup. We have a rule: one classic we’ve both seen a million times (for us, it’s The Thing – the Kurt Russell one, obviously), one genuinely scary movie to make you jump, and one hilariously bad one to rip on. The bad one is usually the most fun. Last year it was some zombie movie from the 80s with the worst special effects you’ve ever seen. We were crying laughing.
And the snacks? Don’t phone this in.
- We make “witch’s fingers” by slicing hot dogs in a specific way and using a sliced almond for the nail. They look horrifying. It’s great.
- A “potion” of some kind. Usually just grape juice and seltzer in a fancy bottle with dry ice if we’re feeling extra (BE CAREFUL WITH DRY ICE, THOUGH).
- Carve an apple like a tiny pumpkin and fill it with caramel dip.
The goal is to feel like you’re 10 years old again, but with better snacks and the person you love.
The Pumpkin Carving Duel
This sounds simple, but you have to add stakes. My wife and I are stupidly competitive.
We go to the pumpkin patch, and it’s immediately a strategic mission. She’s looking for the perfect canvas. I’m looking for a weird, gnarled one with “character.” We bring them home, lay down a ton of newspaper, and get the cheap carving kits from the grocery store.
Then, we set a theme. One year it was “favorite movie character.” I carved a passable Jack Skellington. She made a stunning Totoro. Another year it was “mythical creatures.” I went for a dragon; she did a phoenix.
The winner, decided by a texted photo to a neutral friend, gets a prize. Not a lousy one. The winner gets to pick the next weekend’s takeout, no arguments. Or they get a full day off from a chore they hate. This isn’t kid stuff. This is serious business.
The best part isn’t even the carving. It’s the mess. You’re both up to your elbows in pumpkin guts, your faces hurt from laughing, and you’re focused on creating something together, even if it’s a competition. It’s weirdly intimate.
The “Why Are We Like This?” Fancy Dinner
This one is my favorite memory. We had these really elaborate 1920s costumes one year. We got all dressed up, hair and makeup done, the whole nine yards. And we looked… actually pretty good.
And then, instead of going to the party, we went to a nice, quiet, kinda fancy steakhouse.
I will never forget the look on the host’s face. Pure confusion, then a slow dawning of amusement. He played along perfectly, seating us with a “Right this way, sir, madam.” We sat in a velvet booth, me in a pinstripe suit and fedora, her in a flapper dress, ordering a bottle of red wine and filet mignon.
We got a few stares, but mostly smiles. We had the most amazing, uninterrupted conversation. We were in our own little bubble of absurdity and it was incredible. It was us saying, “We don’t need your party. We are the event.”
It was confident, it was silly, and it was a core memory we still talk about.
The Point Isn’t the Activity
The point is the intention. Halloween gives you permission to be playful and a little weird. So use it.
For one night, forget what you’re supposed to do. Ask yourselves: what would actually be fun for the two of us? Not for your Instagram feed. Not for your friends. For you.
Build the blanket fort. Have the carving duel. Go be the weirdos in the nice restaurant. Do the thing that makes you look at each other and just laugh, because you’re sharing a secret no one else in the room is in on.
That connection, that shared, secret laughter? That’s the real treat. Everything else is just tricks.
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