Cops and Tattoos

Imagine my surprise when he told me, "No, I'm allergic to the ink."

Perhaps I was getting ahead of myself when I assumed that surely, just surely, he would have a tattoo. At least one. Or perhaps I'd been watching too much TV which led me to believe that all cops have some sort of permanent ink, no matter how small.

I rolled over on my side on the couch we were both sharing and peeled my eyes from Pawn Stars just long enough to give him an inquisitive look.

"Really?" I asked.

"Really. My mom is allergic to whatever they put in the ink. So I figured I would be too."

I rolled back over with my back toward him and secretly smiled. Little did he know that I actually joke to my friends about being allergic to the ink as well. My fair skin never took well to things like wool... I wasn't going to chance a limb with permanent ink.

Besides, I've never really been that girl who's attracted to the guy covered from head to foot in tribal patterns, latin phrases and initials of his ex-girlfriend that have been replaced with a nice little collage of skulls, X's and daggers.

Nope, can't do it. It just doesn't get my blood boiling.

And here's my reason why:

I dread having that inevitable conversation with my mom. You know.
This one:

Mom: "He has tattoos."

Me: "Yes, Mom, I know."

Mom: "Those are permanent."

Me: "Yes, Mom, I know."

Mom: "Well, that laser technology gets better and better everyday, but I still don't understand how someone can do that to themselves."

Me: "Yes, Mom. I know."

Add this to the fact that my last boyfriend swore up and down the first tattoo he'd ever get would be in honor of his friend who died in a motorcycle crash, but as soon as we broke up, he got a skull and cross bones of a redheaded girl with "poison" written in the middle. Nice touch. Definitely not subtle, but nice way to memorialize me forever on his right calf.

So to say I was relieved that the cop didn't have any tattoos was putting it lightly. Something that permanent should have much thought go into it, I felt. Not that I'm against all tattoos -- I'm just against the ones that aren't well thought out.

A good friend of mine once told me that if you wanted a tattoo, wait a year. If you still want the same thing that same time next year, then go ahead. But if you changed your mind in the last year, you'll thank yourself you never went through with it.

"What about you?" he asked, as he flipped the channel back to How I Met Your Mother.


"Tattoos? Oh, no. No, none for me." I smiled, but he couldn't see it since my back was toward him.

He was earning points very quickly with me, and he didn't even know it.

-- Miss Matched