The Tattoo Chronicles: The Ex

There is absolutely no point in being coy about this. I will say it quickly and respectfully.

I met this boy.

I fell in love.

We spent a few months doing some kind of dance that could, ultimately, be called neither "dating" nor "an affair". It was a complicated situation that was based on love and the fact that we believed ourselves to be soul mates. It was not going to work out because he wanted one man, not two; and I wanted two men, not one. Pat wanted whatever was going to make everyone happy; you see, we all loved each other, deeply and profoundly.

As a tribute to that boy and to the love I felt for him; as a tribute to the gifts he brought to my life and to the experiences we brought to each other, I chose to have his signature tattoe'd to me. I chose my right leg because he kissed that leg one night while we were making love. I chose the ankle because Pat does not want my legs marked (to quote my clever husband: "you wouldn't graffitti the David, would you?" and, yes, that is a direct quote) but also because it kept it private. The boy and the tattoo were like a secret that I kept from the world in a quiet place that was all our own.

I guess the secret is out.

I had the tattoo done while he was away on holiday. The day he came back, I showed him the tattoo and he flipped out a little; but he recovered. Once he recovered, on that same night, he said to me

"I met someone."

"Are you in love?"

"Not yet."

"You deserve to be in love. You aren't in love with me --- so you better go to him."

We kissed each other goodbye.

The next day we spoke on the phone.

We still speak, every day; that's me and my best friend - my OTHER best friend, that is. That is me and my soul mate.