I’m 40 in 17 days.

For my 30th I got my first tattoo. I took a while to think about what it would be. The timing was right. I had a spot on my body picked out(my right calf). Besides the massive party I had planned in the basement of a bar downtown, it was a solid way to ring in the next decade of my life. Woot.

My old roommate Michelle recommended I get it done by her friend Dev. He had done all her tattoos, which she has many of and were all nicely done. This all seemed like a no-brainer. I went down to the parlor with Michelle, told Dev what I was thinking and brought examples and let him draw something up. Oh, and I took a Xanax and a Vicodin because I was freaking out about how much the needle would hurt.

Dev went to work on my design as I laid stomach down on the table. So….it really fucking hurt. The needle he used for the outline felt like it was piercing down to my bone. I laughed part of the time because I couldn’t believe the amount of pain I was feeling and I kept asking Michelle to talk to me about something — ANYTHING — to keep my mind off off it.

Dev was a nimble man, though. In 20 minutes it was done: A dragon and a tiger circling each other. A representation of the Yin Yang symbol. Simplistic with a vintage touch. A remnant of my passion for Taoism in my 20s. An intimate reminder of the importance of balance in my everyday existence. It meant everything to me at the time.

One small problem: It was the wrong color.

You see, I made it clear to Dev that I wanted a dark blue. We were going for something simple and understated, blue was my favorite color and I wanted a nice dark shade of it. Something rich but inconspicuous. But apparently Dev didn’t think that was the right color for me. Or I should say, the right shade. So dickhead Dev decided to use a piercing (literally) neon shade of aqua (I just double checked it to make sure I’m naming the color right). The shade of blue was practically electric. Radioactive. Like a fucking rave color or something.

I kind of turned around while he was doing it and saw it was the wrong color, but I just thought it was like some kind of initial coat and that he would mix it with black to form the shade of blue or some crap. Did I mention that I had taken a Xanax and a Vicodin beforehand? Oh, you know what I didn’t mention? Michelle was obsessed with Dev and had been unsuccessfully trying to date him for months, and was using my 30th birthday tattoo event with the ulterior motive of trying to get closer to this immensely and clearly emotionally unavailable human being.

Me (whispering): Michelle.

Michelle: What?

Me: It’s the wrong color.

Michelle: What?

Me: He did the wrong color.

Michelle: What did you want?

Me: I wanted dark blue.

Michelle: Well, it’s blue.

Me: Day-glo blue! I wanted dark blue.

Michelle: Shut up!

Me: What?

Michelle: Shut up. You can’t say anything.

Me: Are you kidding me?

We decided to leave and go get a drink around the corner. The post-tattoo adrenaline rush was strong, but not strong enough to overpower my concern.

I stepped out on to the sidewalk. It was a sunny July day in SF (that shit cray!) and I looked down to see that my tattoo was glowing to the point of blinding me. UGH. It felt tacky. Tacky lame dumb my 30th sucks I hate everyone blah blah grrrr.

I sat there with my drink half-pouting and half-congratulating myself. Michelle was right to a certain degree. I could just get it colored in somewhere else.

Oh, and Dev dogged the shit out of her a month later. So that went nowhere. Shocker.

I ended up never changing the color. I just got too many damn compliments on it. And after a few weeks, it had grown on me. I mean, maybe Dev knew something I didn’t? He knew what would look best on my pasty white calf. the fuckface kind of screwed over my friend but ultimately delivered a stellar tattoo. I love it. I still love it. It’s a part of me. No regrets. I haven’t gotten another tattoo since. And the color hasn’t faded much. WHAT KIND OF SORCERY INK DID HE USE?

So I’m thinking about a tattoo for my 40th. Do I get a tattoo at all? Will getting a tattoo for my 40th look cool or just heighten an incoming mid-life crisis?

Here are a list of potential tattoos that I have crossed my mind, in no particular order:

1. The state of California.
2. A Chakana.
3. The area code “415”. Sadly, I’m not joking about that one.
4. Some kind of special word. If I had one.
5. A vinyl record.
6. An ankh. Very meaningful to me but also kind of a cliched symbol now, right?

I know there were more idea but I’m blanking now. I think what I need to do is approach it the same way I did my last one: What’s going in on in my soul that will take precedence in this next decade? And will ultimately stay with me until I die? What does it mean for someone to turn 40, if anything? What does the decade represent?

Does it have to be something with an explicit meaning or can I just do something weird? Or maybe I choose an animal or object that represents a value that’s important to me. So like, if I was all about freedom, maybe I’d get some kind of bird (REALLY bad example).

The more I think about it, the more I want one now. And if it all comes together, I hope it’s as a fitting moment in time like the last one. I go in with an idea and come out with something that wasn’t totally what I expected but I eventually fall in love with. Like the boyfriend I have yet to find.