The First Time
The first time you have sex is arguably more important than any of the (hopefully many) times you have it after that. Some may argue that it’s no big deal, that dispensing with one’s virginity is just as well accomplished with a one-night stand as it is with the culmination of a long courtship. I beg to differ.
The physical act of love renders the participant, especially the first-timer, more vulnerable than just about any other human endeavor. It also opens him/her to a level of connection with another person that is unequaled in any other situation. It can, therefore, be a profoundly humiliating experience or it can be simply profound. All else being equal, I’d opt for the latter.
I would also submit to you, dear blog reader, that the same is true (or ought to be) for one’s first tattoo. By that I mean, one’s first ink should have meaning for the wearer and it should be the result of a well-considered decision. It definitely should NOT be undertaken on a lark, out of peer pressure, a desire for acceptance or a fleeting stab of rebellion.
Let’s start with the obvious: it’s permanent. Laser treatments not withstanding, that first tattoo, like that first roll in the hay, is something you can’t take back. Subsequent couplings and tattoos might not carry such weight, and it may well be fine for you to take a lover or a needle simply “for fun.” But at that point you’d have at least that first one under your belt. You’d understand what’s involved and would be in a better position to make the call.
You also might have a better idea of what your, um, “preferences” are. After some exposure to different styles, you might find you’re not that into black and gray and more interested in color realism. (Please don’t make me complete the analogy.)
The point here is that tattoos and sex are both wondrous things that should be approached with respect from a place of… well, love. They deserve to be, and I believe the results prove this out.
I cringe when I hear tattoo critics trotting out the same old “you’ll regret it later” argument. I always want to find the person and say, really? I’m 48—it IS later. On the other hand, I hear the same words forming in the back of my throat whenever I hear some teenager talking about all the “tats” they’re going to get as soon as they turn 18, or when I look at someone still too young to buy alcohol with nary a square inch of skin uncovered. Will they regret, at the very least, not leaving room to express themselves later in life?
Obviously all of this is highly personal and I would never presume to tell others what to do (and for the record, I didn’t wait until my 40s to lose my virginity). My purpose here is only to suggest that with tattoos, as with sex, a little forethought goes a long way.