Tat(who?) — The infiltration and absorption of body ink amongst SoCal socialites.
Everyone has them. Hell, even my own mother’s gotten inked twice in the past two years, and she doesn’t even own a cell phone. Point being, tattoos have rapidly ascended the social ladder from taboo to typical, and nary a scantily clad male or female crosses one’s path these days without some form of body art adorning their frame.
Of course, whether said décor is appealing to the opposite, or even the same sex in some cases, is entirely a subjective matter. The “hot-or-not” factor has morphed from an attraction once relegated to the rebellious outlaw to the common man, or woman as it were.
Thus, the attraction to and appeal of tattoos have shifted from a desire to date and/or fornicate with the bad boy/bad girl to an urge to find either A) a partner whose proverbial tattoo cherry has yet to be popped, or B) one whose ink is so unique it invariably begets compliments or an endless parade of questions pertaining to the meaning or motivation behind the ink itself.
So perhaps the attraction of tattoos in this day and age isn’t so much in their existence, but rather in the stories they tell. I mean really, let’s call a spade a spade here. Meeting a potential partner/bed buddy becomes that much more poignant if they can not only formulate coherent sentences on their own accord, but also if such sentences can be strewn together to create a sense of intrigue about what would hopefully be a significant piece of body art.
And I use the term “significant” very loosely in this particular context. What may seem meaningless to a passive observer may indeed hold profound connotations to whomever the tattoo happens to be adorning. But that’s where the leniency comes to a screeching halt…
I’ve seen more “bad” tattoos in the past six months than I’ve seen in the last six years. And I’ve really been unable to arrive at any other conclusion as to why, other than people, in general, are unoriginal sheep. And as much as I’d like to reject that observation, I am continually reassured of it on an almost-weekly basis.
Sure you love your hometown - everyone does. But must you inform the world of your adoration as you traipse about the beach shirtless, visibly proclaiming your “So-Cal” love or “SD” pride? I mean really, come on.
You don’t see others with “Poughkeepsie,” or “Tallahassee” across their backs in old English.
So, in an effort to keep tattoos from becoming entirely cliché, I say be original. Use that orb situated three feet above your ass for something other than a (flat-billed) hat rack or pretty conversation piece. Instead, make your ink work for you, rather than against, and you may just find yourself engaged in a conversation with an engaging individual. Because, like distinctive tattoos, such things are becoming harder and harder to find.
