So I was talking to a friend the other week at Sue Ellen's. And suddenly, out of the blue, she says, “I got another tattoo!” (All quotes are paraphrases. )
This friend — whom we’ll call Jade because that’s her name — has several tattoos already. She insists that she got her latest tattoo before all her financial shit went down, and I believe her. At least I say that I do, because I know what’s good for me.
We’ve talked about tattoos before, and she’s told me that she’d like, in the abstract, “someday” sense of the word, to get another one. “Well,” I allowed, “I’ve always been kind of interested in getting one myself.” She perked up at this. “Really?” she asked. I explained how I’ve always liked the idea of having a little tattoo somewhere on my body, someplace out of sight, just purely for decorative purposes. I told her how I liked the idea of having something unique about me, something demonstrable that I can point to and say, “Nobody else has this. This is mine alone.”
Plus there’s the girl factor, of course. “Do you have any tattoos?” she’ll say. “Yes,” I’ll say casually. “Can I see it?” she’ll say. And then we’re off to the races.
Jade and I talked in greater detail about what I’d get if I were going to get something. I told her that it would have to be on my back, because I don’t want it to be someplace where I can see it. I explained that I’m an incredibly critical and cynical person, and that if I can see it, there’s going to be something about it that I don’t like, something about it that bugs me. So I want it to be someplace where I can only see it if I really go looking for it.
I further explained that I’d want something wholly abstract, not at all representative of anything. I wouldn’t want it to look like anything or symbolize anything because it’s going to be on me for the rest of my life, and I don’t want it to become irrelevant, or worse, to represent something I no longer value.
So we talked, and we talked, and we talked some more, and finally she said to me, “When you decide you’re ready, let me know. You can come to town and we’ll go get inked together.”
That was a week ago. Last weekend she says to me, out of the blue and apropos of nothing, “I’m getting another tattoo!” Just like that, just all of a sudden. I asked her why, and she said that over the past couple of days — since the previous Sunday — she’s decided that she’s just going to get it done. Like, now. “If I had the money, I’d get it this weekend,” she said.
I think she saw it on my face. “What is it?” she asked. I didn’t know how to say it, so I deflected. “That seems really … impulsive,” I said. I didn’t mean it in a bad way, but then again I did. Jade is an impulsive person. That’s just how she is. That's why she's out of a job again, and in more financial trouble...AND I'M NOT BAILING HER OUT OF IT THIS TIME! She does things on impulse, so deciding on a Sunday that she wants a tattoo and having it by Saturday is not out of character for her at all. In fact, if anything, what’s out of character is the wait. I’m a little surprised she didn’t get it done on Sunday.
So we talked about impulsiveness for a minute, and frankly I made a big mess of it. She thought I was being critical of her, that I was looking down on her for being impulsive. That wasn’t it at all. I couldn’t find the words to say what I wanted to say.
Naturally, the minute I ran off, the words came pouring into my head.
It’s not that I think impulsiveness is bad. It’s just that I’m not at all impulsive. I can’t do anything without second thoughts and cold feet. I can’t buy a gallon of milk at the store without some kind of reservations about it. That’s just who I am; it’s just part of my personality. So the idea of getting a tattoo, something that’s absolutely permanent, frankly fills me with apprehension.
When I said all that to Jade, she thought I was criticizing her. I wasn’t. I was telling her that I’m jealous!
I really wish sometimes that I could be more carefree, more daring, more impulsive. Not about silly things like tattoos, but about big things in my life. A few days ago I had a chance to join a new company; I decided not to because I would have had to drop a class. Now I wish I had the guts to go ahead and drop the class. And who knows how many girls have walked past me, turned the corner and disappeared because I was too nervous to talk to them.
So when Jade calls me up and says, “I’m getting a tattoo!” and my first reaction is one of fear and apprehension, it just serves to underscore the fact that I’m more uptight than I wish I were.
I think the right path through life is the narrow path. I think it’s appropriate to be nervous and unsure sometimes, but I think it’s also appropriate — or even necessary — to throw caution to the wind sometimes.
So what do you think? Should I just say “Screw it” and get a tattoo?
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