Saturday, December 26, 2015

Girlfriend Tattoo

Goldfinger's Gay-Tattoo Removal

To me, getting your girlfriend or your wife's name tattooed on you is just another way of showing everybody that you're missing some vital chromosomes. I mean, as if breaks up and divorces aren't agonising enough already. What? We want to add some drawn-out and expensive searing pain to it as well. But my biggest gripe is that this is an age-old tale! It's up there with don't drink and drive, don't fuck the monkeys and don't walk off cliffs; you're not the Roadrunner. It's always the same story: they break up and they either need to invite Darth Vader into their divorce to laser that mistake out of them or invite Banksy in to twist the name into satirical-delight. But you know, surely enough you head to the beach or someone takes off their jacket at the dinner table and tada! Obvious mistake number one on the lower left arm. Some chick’s name! It makes as much sense as a McDonald's salad.

I have a tattoo, and I've also been in a few long-termers myself. Most recently, I was in a four year relationship which I thought was the be-all and end-all of unions. Even toward the end, I pictured myself in my sixties watching Bold and the Beautiful 4.0 with her and our grandchildren, and yet I still wouldn't have inked up. This had nothing to do with any fear or commitment issues on my part, but because shit happens, and in this case, shit did happen and now that whole operation is a shambles. So I think it was a smart move, because I could just walk away without having to make a doctors appointment. I'm sorry to say, but these tattoos seem to be more permanent than the love that went into creating them, and that's not good news, especially for men.

But I suppose that's the charm of it, right? And take my word for it, I'm as romantic as they come, but what are we? Cattle? We're not men! Women have conned us into being branded. But ladies, that's not milk, but you’ve got us. I suppose that way whenever we're drunk or another woman tears our shirts off and we catch a glimpse of ourselves in the mirror, we go "wait a second, I have a wife and kids! I better get home!" It's like a 'don't feed my man' sign posted next to an animal habitat. I mean, who are we? For a freshly single, flesh and blood male with pent up fantasies of new sex, a man finally set free from the shackles of monogamy, being branded with a woman's name like a Holocaust survivor could be what keeps us from waking up with someone in the morning. Think about it.

But why not, ha? I mean, “YOLO” or whatever, right? Well...yeah, sure, you only live once, so why spend over 10 hours of it paying someone to torture you like you're Bond in Goldfinger. You see that's what actually happened. It was a deleted scene. 007 fell head over heels for Goldfinger's German gut and impulsively got a tattoo professing his gay-love for him. But you see, it was the 60s and the maniacal villain was quite homophobic, so he immediately took him to his private gay-tattoo removal clinic. "Do you expect me to talk?" "No Mr Bond, just don't scream because you're a little bitch for getting this done in the first place."

Who knows though, maybe I'll get one someday, but I think I'll pick the name before I pick the girl in that case; something with some versatility. Perhaps a Jessica who will let me call her ‘Jessie’, that way I can just make it into Jessie's Girl and hope to fucking God that Rick Springfield has some other songs. Maybe, I'll turn the name into lyrics, perhaps some of those names which are notorious for breaking the hearts of many popular singers. ‘Suzanne’ used to be a big one, with Journey and Leonard Cohen. ‘Natalie’ perhaps, like the ones who hurt the likes of Bruno Mars and The Killers. Could even make that one an homage to how much I dislike Natalie Portman. Or better yet, make it a double-homage and depict her as a bottle of Port Wine, and it would be the worst tattoo ever. Clearly I'm out'ta ideas at this point.

At any rate, can we please just cease with the girlfriend tattoos. I think the jury is in on these things: they're disasters. I've been hearing it since I was just a tadpole. Instead, get something germane to you as a couple. Something particular to the first place you met or fucked or whatever. If it was a skating rink, get a small ice skate on your arm. If it was at an Italian restaurant, get a cute little Spag-Bowl. If it was at the monthly Arian meet-up, add an extra special Swastika to the rest. Whatever! Just something that doesn't have to be zapped away when reality zaps away your happiness.