vVPNThe first time my wife asked me to get a tattoo, I nearly crashed our Toyota Highlander Hybrid into the lane median.

There’s been no second time, mostly because I’ve avoided conversing with her altogether.

Allow me to add some brief context.  I am a 47 year-old father of two, with a size-able home mortgage and a growing gut that is having some trouble staying above the underwear line.  Beyond listening to the occasional AC/DC track, my tastes tend to run toward the mundane and ordinary.  I am, by all reasonable definition, no bad-ass.  I wear slippers with little tassels on them when the house gets chilly, and I sometimes add jicama in my salad to give it a little jolt.  Trust me, I’m about the last person you’d expect to sport a tattoo.

And yet there it was, a call to arms.  The woman I married 20+ years ago, who has as clear an understanding of who I am as anyone on this or any planet, wants me to put permanent paint into my skin for show.

This easily represents the most dramatic reverse of course since my father started voting Democrat (which caused the earth to shift on its axis a few years ago).  Since the moment I met her, my wife could be described as adamantly anti-tattoo.  She hated the idea of permanently marking one’s body, admonishing young tattoo freaks as delusional and misguided.  Times and tastes change, she would say, so why would you place any tool of permanence in the hands of a twenty-something who at one time thought the Spin Doctors represent the pinnacle of cool?  She was right.  Twenty-five years later, the Spin Doctors aren’t even remotely cool (although they’ll likely be playing at the Levitt Pavillion fundraiser any minute now…and we’ll be there).

She imagined what that flaming dragon she saw on the shoulders of that 23 year old beach-goer would look when she was 80…the sagging flesh and faded color, the wrinkles twisting the images in ways that would perplex and horrify her future grandkids.  Even on a young body, she would say, it looks trampy and low-class.

This attitude lasted for years, decades even.  But then, slowly, so gradually as to be imperceivable to the naked (and proudly tattoo-less) eye, things began to change.

It started after a girls night out, when she and a friend decided that it might, just might, be cool to get a tiny little tattoo of a rose or butterfly somewhere reasonably hidden, like an ankle or a hip.  Something sweet, a little private, no grand statement to the outside world.  I have to admit, I kind of liked the idea.  She’s not the spontaneous or edgy type, so the idea of a secret love symbol was kind of sexy.  It never happened, but I didn’t exactly discourage it.  I even suggested a variation on the visual, replacing the small rose with a scripted phrase along the lines of “My husband is a stud and you can’t have me.”.  That didn’t happen either.

At the same time, the culture began to shift around me.  John Q Non-Tattooed Public always admired the symbols and affectations of the outlaw, but from a pretty safe distance.  No longer.  First, he grew facial hair, as goatees and beards suddenly moved off of the motorcycle and onto the faces of the mainstream (at least in Brooklyn).  Then, his wife started smoking cigars at book group.  Gangsta rap music became the soundtrack in laundry commercials.  And suddenly, before you knew it, tattoos were everywhere.  Tattoo parlors began opening up in mainstream malls, where suburbanites sat for tattoo sessions while sipping on their lattes in between carpools.  Demure celebrities started baring their body art in the pages of magazines and on red carpets.  The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo came out, featuring, as I’m told, a girl with a dragon tattoo.

But what I think turned the tide in my house was when rock stars and athletes alike became inked all at once, in unison, as if it was contractually obligated.  Not the grungy ones…they’ve always had that edge.  I’m talking about the nice ones with the baby faces and fashion sense.  Once Adam Levine from Maroon Five showed up, with his boy-next-door face, and his arms and torso completely covered by hearts, roses and odes to his mother, my wife was hooked.  Even tween favorite Ed Sheeran, who looks like he was birthed out of smiling comedy wedlock by Carol Burnett and Danny Kaye, has no visible skin left on his body.  Tattoos aren’t scary anymore.  They’re almost expected if you’re reasonably cool, stylish, and just a little on the mysterious side.

Of which, sadly, I am not.

But, it’s out there.  She wants me to get a tattoo.  Not her.  Me.  Being that I’m a modern card-carrying jew who is both prone to neuroses and a general desire to be ultimately buried in a jewish cemetery, I had to wonder what it all meant.  Are her desires changing?  Does she need me to amp up my game?  Currently, my game represents trying to chew Doritos with my mouth closed while working the remote, so I might have a long way to go.

And, as I thought even more about the derivation of this request, I began to recall some details of her past.  My wife, prior to meeting the dynamic non-rock-star that I am, had dated some proverbial bad boys.  First, she started slowly, with the quarterback of the high school football team.  She then graduated to a couple of boozy frat boys, eventually settling in on the jackpot:  an occasionally drug-dealing college boyfriend who made her watch while he played arcade video games.  I’m sure that guy is COVERED in tattoos right about now.

But she eventually settled down, rejected the rebel without a cause archetype and found me.  And we’ve lived happily ever after.

Until now.  Perhaps her old desires are starting to creep back into the mix.  Or perhaps she sees a tattoo as just the trendy fashion accessory of the times, like non-pleated pants.  Or maybe she’s just fucking with me.

Either way, I’ve been googling my options.  I figure I’ve got two choices.  I could get a dynamic but tasteful armband tattoo that reads “My wife changed course and made me do this”. Better yet, I could invest in a chain of tattoo removal services that cater to senior citizens.  In just a mere decade or two, I’m sure business will be booming.