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TATTOO
YOU
NOTHING
SAYS "I LOVE YOU" LIKE A NAME SCRAWLED ON YOUR ASS
DEAR KEN & ARIEL: In my young, crazy
days, I got a boyfriend’s name tattooed on my inner thigh. Yes, it was
dumb, but now I’ve met someone who could well be Mr. Right, and I’m
curious as to how he’ll react when he gets up close and personal with
someone else’s name. Suggestions?
 ARIEL
SAYS: Bravo on diving headfirst into the lion’s den of love! You are quite
daring and passionate in your romantic endeavors. I am so shit-scared of
Cupid’s arrow that I can’t even commit to placing a guy’s name in my
Palm Pilot, much less my inner thigh.
So I assume tattoo boy
was too stupid to realize how wonderful you are, and you’ve moved on.
Well done. Now, how to deal with the current Mr. Right.
Laser removal comes to mind, but I’m sure you’ve thought of this
yourself. One other option is to find a time that you and your honey are
alone, cozy and preferably sober. Tell him you want to show him something,
but before his eyes light up like a kid in Toys R Us, warn him that it isn’t
exactly an aphrodisiac. Show him the tattoo. Tell him exactly what you
told us, and add that the tattoo means nothing more than a pleasant
reminder of your daring, albeit reckless, experiences.
Then, take an eyeliner pen and cross out the tattoo, write his name above
it, smile coyly and… well, you know the rest.
If he is indeed the man, he will respect
the fact that this is your body and that your past is your business and
won’t be too freaked out by it.
Final word of advice: stick to tattoos from a Cracker Jack box.
 KEN
SAYS: As always, Ariel, you’ve offered an engaging and oddly arousing
scenario. Unfortunately, all the feminine wiles in the world won’t turn
this ship around.
You see, guys are notoriously territorial, whether we’re lobbing
missiles at foreigners who stroll too close to our borders or showering
Bronx cheers on sports teams from another city. Of course, we’re the
same way with women—treating each one as sacred ground that only we
should be allowed to traverse, and foolishly assuming that we’re the
only ones who’ve ever been there.
In that regard, a woman’s
past history instantly intrigues and repels every would-be suitor. Yeah,
we want to know whose jacket she wore in high school, who she hooked up
with after the prom, and just what—if anything—went on between her and
those four fraternity guys she met during Spring Break.
But at the same time, we
really don’t want to know, preferring instead to block out any
notions that our galpals have ever dropped trou for another man. Silly? Of
course. But, as Bruce Hornsby once said, that’s just the way it is. And
some things will never change.
But, finally, a word to the
wise: Tattoos are racy enough; one placed in such an egregiously sensual
and private location—and of another dude’s name, no less—could set a
guy’s head reeling. I suggest telling Mr. Right that the name on your
thigh belongs not to an old lover, but to a dearly departed uncle, who
gave his life for his country in Vietnam.
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