“So, what do you think?” SL asked.
“It’s nice,” I replied.
“So, you think you want one?”
“Nah, not for me.”
“Just not interested.”
“It’s not like it hurt much.”
“That’s good, but still not interested.”
SL, one of my best friends at the time was nearly incredulous by my blasé attitude towards his first tattoo. After all, we were 19 (or thereabouts) when this conversation (or some semblance of it) occurred. He probably looked at the tattoo as a statement, a declaration of independence. He always wanted to push the envelope.