Getting Freaky in a Graveyard

This is going to sound really bad. 

I had sex in a graveyard.

Once.

When I was 17.

It sounds a lot worse than it really was. The idea of it, that is, not the sex itself. The sex was not bad, I'd say mediocre, at best.

To begin with, the act was performed with a boy that I was in love with and who had been my boyfriend for over a year. We had a mutually respectful relationship and we were looking for another way to connect. 
And also, new places to screw and not get caught by our parents.

And in my defense, it was a pet cemetery.

Even as a child, I had always loved the scare you could get watching a good horror movie. I was only five  when my parents took me to see a double feature that included Jaws and The Omen. I was wearing my pajamas and clutching a stuffed animal as I watched a giant, fake shark terrorize a New England beach from the back seat of our fake-wood paneled station wagon. 

To this day I cannot imagine why my parents thought it was a good idea to take me to see two of the scariest movies ever made. Strangely, it didn't freak me out, rather, it just made me really like horror movies. And surprisingly, there is no long-term psychological or emotional damage to me in spite of this early trauma (that we know of). That said, it was probably not the best parenting decision my folks made prior to their divorce a few years later.

By the time I'd reached high school, as far as I was concerned, there were no more good scary movies being made. They were too unrealistic, lacked imagination and the plots and dialog were always too stupid to believe. I was in need of a good scare and decided that my friends and I should visit a graveyard not too far from where we lived. Reluctantly, they agreed.

Maybe to insure that at least one person wouldn't back out at the last minute, I told my boyfriend that I wanted to 'do it' while we were there. Because that would be reeeally fucking weird scary.

He enthusiastically agreed. Not so much because he wanted to get laid in a cemetery- he just wanted to get laid. Anywhere.

It was around ten o'clock when the six of us arrived and parked behind the middle school across the street. We killed a couple of hours drinking, smoking and telling ghost stories before we all had the courage to leave the bleachers and head in the direction of the pet cemetery. We crossed the street and climbed over a short, chain-link fence that surrounded the cemetery. Out of fear all six of us walked in a tight cluster holding hands. We covered our mouths between muffled giggles and whispering, "BOO!"to each other, in hopes that the living neighbors whose houses surrounded the yard, wouldn't hear us.

It was nearly midnight and the slight breeze made it chillier than usual. The graveyard was small- maybe two acres and it was not maintained at all. The ground was hard-packed, desert dirt with occasional ground squirrel holes and dried up weeds littering the property. Most of the pet plots had nothing but crooked wooden crosses, the sun having baked off much of their white paint. There were no names that we could see on the first few grave markers we came across.

Real picture of our Spooky Neighborhood Graveyard in the daylight
(add your own creepy soundtrack here- I suggest wind whistling
or the sound of your kids opening up the squeaky cabinet
where you keep your home-made porn collection)

Under the guise of playing hide-and-go-seek, I grabbed my boyfriend's hand and we shuffled off giggling, knowing what we were about to do would be both silly and scary. We found a small area of concrete where there stood a tall flagpole at the back of the cemetery. We argued briefly about who would be on the bottom and thus, be forced to lay bare-bottomed on the cold concrete. Although it was dark and we knew our friends couldn't see us from across the cemetery, we also knew we would be unable to see any one of them approaching if they happened to come looking for us. 

We fumbled with belts and buttons and zippers and were in the middle of (fill in the blank with an illegal, underage activity of your preference ) _________ when we heard one of our friends call out. 

We were dressed and on our feet quickly, running in the direction of the cry. We found everyone  motionless and staring at one of the few, non-wooden headstones.

And it was not a dog.
Or cat.
Or bird.

It was a person. And though I cannot remember the name or the dates, I remember it was a young person, a kid. A kid that had died and was buried there nearly 100 years earlier. And we looked at the headstone next to it, and the one next to that one and the one next to that one. It was an entire family.

We were literally stunned into silence and I was mortified by my earlier actions. How disrespectful we had been. And how embarrassed I was for my behavior. And for having sex in front of ghosts. We thought we were screwing in front of labradoodles.

What a Zombie Labradoodle would look if he watched me have sex and
he also happened to be dressed up as a  Siberian Husky
( Zombie dogs always dress up on Halloween )

Ghosts saw me naked.

Someone wisely suggested we "get the hell out of here" and so we did.

Artist rendering of what our exit may have looked like the night we got freaky in a graveyard 

We spent the rest of the night hanging out behind the middle school and reliving the evening we spent among ghosts. 

I have not thought about that night in many years, I guess because it wasn't as scary or significant as I had hoped it was going to be. 

But just to be safe, my daughters will never be taken to a horror movie double-feature before the age of six and instead will be brought up on a steady diet of Disney, Pixar and Dreamworks. 

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Check out what other bloggers have to say about Halloween by clicking on the links below....

Something Clever 2.0  

Cloudy With a Chance of Wine 

The Next Step 

a calibama state of mind 

Your Life Tour Guide 

Each week you'll have the opportunity to see what the same five whackos have to say about the same subject. Believe me, it will explain a lot.

Enjoy!