I know I should be turned off by faded, crummy tattoos on his upper arm, but frankly, I'm astounded that I'm not. Dare I say it, but I think it's cute.
I'll notice it peeking out from under his t-shirt. I'll smile as I touch it with my finger and playfully ask, "What is this?"
As he pushes up his sleeve, he'll say, "It's supposed to be a family crest. I got it done when I was, like, 19. I thought I was so cool. This one over here? It's my skateboarding crew's insignia. Yes, we had an insignia. Don't laugh. My friends all have it too. It's kinda stupid, I know. I got that one when I was, Christ, 17, I think?" He'll chuckle then rub over the skin wistfully.
I find myself enjoying the mental image of him checking out his fresh tattoo in the mirror. He must've been so proud! Maybe he flexed? Maybe he did a bicep curl to see how it'd look like? Who knows?
These tattoos are so fake-tough, like a leather jacket or a mohawk. As a kid, I'd probably be freaked out about the idea of ever dating a guy with a tattoo, but now I'm an adult and I can laugh about it and realize that it's as threatening as a teddy bear. THEY'RE SO CUTE!