Edward Cullen, you decide.

I want a tattoo. I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. So, why don’t I have one already? Because I’m neurotic, afraid of commitment, and completely indecisive- all of which you should have already known! I never make any big decisions, or even small ones. If I do make a decision, it’s kind of spur of the moment, do or die. I’m serious. Nine times out of ten, when I go to a restaurant I agonize over three to five meal options I may or may not want to get. When the waiter comes to me, my adrenaline rushes through my brain, I ask the waiter several complicated questions about the taste, texture, and their preference of my options, and as soon as the waiter gives me their shining recommendation for a particular meal choice, I go completely batshit and choose an option that I was never debating over and the waiter undoubtedly asks the cook to add a special ingredient in my food.

Need another example? Fine! When I was 18, my best friend at the time wanted to go get a tattoo. Our other best friend found a cool place in the city to go, and I made a joke about how I’d always wanted to get my tongue pierced (which I had since I was ten and Scary Spice and her stud bearing tongue were my heroes). While my friend was getting her tattoo done, our other friend found the piercer and told her that I wanted my tongue pierced without my knowledge. The piercer came out and handed me a form and started showing me the types of starter bars I could get put in. At first I was all, no… no, I can’t really get my tongue pierced. What if it gets paralyzed, or I hate it, it swells up to the size of Montana, or it splits in half and I have to become a Carny? But then, the adrenaline started pumping, and the next thing I knew I had a metal bar through my tongue and I couldn’t pronounce my Ss or Ts for a week.

Luckily though, six years later, when I decided I was over my tongue ring I was able to take it out leaving only a little scar as a reminder. When my dinner arrives, if I decide I hate my choice, I either don’t have to eat it, or can take it home and feed it to someone else. These decisions, though anxiety provoking, have never been long lasting or far reaching. Good thing, because as I am completely indecisive, I eventually change my mind about every decision I ever make and have to undo… or rechoose. A tattoo, however, is a lifelong commitment. Life is way too long a time… I could change my mind about my tattoo a bajillion times before my life is over.

I mean, what if I get it in a place that when I’m old sags and then my tattoo looks like a bull dog’s butt hole? Or what if I decide I’m going to embrace my inner Jew, become a Rabbi, and need to be buried in a Jewish Cemetery? Or what if I commit a crime, and I’m identified by my ink and I have to spend the rest of my life behind bars? Let’s not even think about the very real fact that I could become a vampire and live forever and have to deal with that fact that I have a Britney Spears’ lyric tattooed on my wrist in the year 4017 and no one even knows who Britney Spears is except for historians and that gives away my age and they realize what I am and stake my ass!

Do you see how neurotic I am? Can you see why, while I really want a tattoo, I can’t get one because I’m crazy and will regret it a thousand years from now? Do you think my chances of falling in love with my own Edward Cullen and becoming the next Bella are pretty high? Because this tattoo thing really hinges on that outcome.