oldpop
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When I was in my early twenties a young lady and I met on a poker run and we became very close to the point that we pledged our undying love for each other just as many young people do . After a period of cohabitation I mentioned to her how nice it would be for her to show her never ending love for me by getting a tattoo with my name on it for perpetuity. It was only a half serious idea but she seemed to like the idea.
The following weekend we went to a trusted tattoo parlor where I had received quite a few quality tattoos myself. The idea was to have a large black rose tattooed on her butt cheek with a rocker over the top of the rose that said Property Of and a bottom rocker with my name on it under the rose. I must mention here that I did not in any way shape or form push the issue of her getting this tattoo. Personally when I embarked into the world of tattoos I pledged to myself I would never get any names carved onto my body. I have adhered to that promise to this very day.
After about two hours at the tattoo parlor the artist was finishing up his work and I took a peek, it was striking. There staring me in my face was a beautiful black rose covering about three quarters of her butt cheek and my name taking up the rest. After the tattoo was finished the artist handed her a mirror so she could pore over the results. She seemed to be satisfied with the results to say the least and I received a big hug and a kiss for I was the one who footed the bill.
Everything moved along smoothly for the next three years. Then one weekend night a very close friend of mine took me aside and told me that she was cheating on me. I did a little of my own research and found that what he had told me was true. Being that I had been blindsided before I reacted in my own calm and collected way and vacated the premises. Afterwards I went to the beach and pounded sand for about an hour. I felt much better after that. Needless to say I have not had any contact with her now for many years.
Sometimes when it is quiet and my mind meanders back to the good ole days I wonder what she had done about that tattoo. I like to think she just crossed out my name and added others as they came and went until she had a list of crossed out names all the way down to her ankle. C'est la vie
The following weekend we went to a trusted tattoo parlor where I had received quite a few quality tattoos myself. The idea was to have a large black rose tattooed on her butt cheek with a rocker over the top of the rose that said Property Of and a bottom rocker with my name on it under the rose. I must mention here that I did not in any way shape or form push the issue of her getting this tattoo. Personally when I embarked into the world of tattoos I pledged to myself I would never get any names carved onto my body. I have adhered to that promise to this very day.
After about two hours at the tattoo parlor the artist was finishing up his work and I took a peek, it was striking. There staring me in my face was a beautiful black rose covering about three quarters of her butt cheek and my name taking up the rest. After the tattoo was finished the artist handed her a mirror so she could pore over the results. She seemed to be satisfied with the results to say the least and I received a big hug and a kiss for I was the one who footed the bill.
Everything moved along smoothly for the next three years. Then one weekend night a very close friend of mine took me aside and told me that she was cheating on me. I did a little of my own research and found that what he had told me was true. Being that I had been blindsided before I reacted in my own calm and collected way and vacated the premises. Afterwards I went to the beach and pounded sand for about an hour. I felt much better after that. Needless to say I have not had any contact with her now for many years.
Sometimes when it is quiet and my mind meanders back to the good ole days I wonder what she had done about that tattoo. I like to think she just crossed out my name and added others as they came and went until she had a list of crossed out names all the way down to her ankle. C'est la vie
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