This Life According To Lu: All My Exes Have Tattoos.
‘Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting
past.’ –Jack London
“What does it mean?” I asked Jeremy, running my fingers through my middle part. I called him gem, with a J.
“Xīwàng, hope,” he responded, offering the translation for my limited understanding of Mandarin.
“Oh,” I said, unsure of why I felt disappointed. He turned over his shoulder, as we both stared at the chinese symbol permanently engrained on his back. “I like it.” I lied. “Did it hurt?” I wondered, considering when I went with my best friend, Morgan, to get hers the year prior, she giggled the entire time while the man drew a paw-print on her left butt cheek. Still, I held her hand anyway.
“Yeah, a lot. I’m glad you like it, baby.” He smiled, displaying his lime green braces, which made me smile, and I reciprocated the awful neon that encased my teeth. It had been the most romantic gesture my dorky, 8th-grade self had ever received from a boy. It looks like I have gum stuck in my teeth! I explained to my friends, a hasty rubber band choice I regretted immediately. A few days later he came to school with the same color and grabbed my hand as we walked to assembly together. Now we both do. A few weeks later we were already texting each other on Nokia bricks words like “luv” and the cliched “u r my world.”
My first LUV and first ex to get a tat.
While the following is by no means a compilation of all the men I’ve dated…’cause that’s quite a list, it includes the milestones. And Jem, he was the first.
My second first “real love,” it’s in quotes because not really, was Ludwik, though I called him Lou-chi-oh (pronounced exaggeration of the OHHHHHH). We dated for a year in a high school, which equated to the length of time I lived in several cities, my best friend completely, though we aren’t even friends on Facebook, anymore. He now has at least a half dozen tattoos, one of which is a bumblebee. Ironically, my AIM screenname was bumblebeelac (I liked the rhyme, okay!), although there’s absolutely no correlation.
My third significant ex to make this list is Eli, although we had the most messed up relationship of all time. But I had such a crush on him throughout my duration in Germany and we had an on-off relationship that involved way too many other people. Now his arms are completely sleeved with various designs. *Also, we’re still buds, so perhaps this admission is nullified.
My actual first love was my college boyfriend, who I dated nearly two years. He has some symbolic saying of his family’s name written across his back.
Most recently, my boyfriend of two years, Tom, whom I lived with, got a tattoo of his grandparents on his chest. I am pleased that this purchase was post-breakup.
Hey, I’m not here to judge because bumblebee’s and chinese symbols? Quite feminine if you ask me, but you didn’t. Interestingly, I hate tattoos. Perhaps this relates to my inability to make plans and my lack of permanence. I get bored of my favorite sweater after a month, I can’t imagine living in the same place for two years and thrive on change. How could I ever value something that is eternally stained on your skin? And yet, the majority of significant men in my past are decorated in ink. Maybe it’s cupid’s way of trying to spite me, or maybe I seek consistency more than I realize.
Either way, this is my life and I think it’s weird that all my exes have tattoos.