OCT 24, 2024 | FEATURES | By Anya Jones
Here are the facts
- He’s got two arms full of disconnected tattoos, none of which are remarkably noteworthy. So yes, it’s exactly what you’re picturing – an incohesive tapestry of animals, patterns, and natural weather events. Obviously included are some flowers and a snake.
- She has an impressive piece that wraps around her entire right upper arm area. The ink is so filled in it’s pretty much impossible to discern if I’m looking at a scene from Avatar (the blue one) or whatever the tattoo artist came up with when she came in and said “I want something that looks like the emotions of a motorcycle gang personified.”
- He is wearing a flat brimmed hat.
- She is sporting aviator shaped sunglasses.
- They are sitting on top of a piece of graffitied concrete looking out at the ocean. Her right arm is resting casually across his back and over his right shoulder while his arm is spread eagle behind him, propping up his top half.
- They are perched in complete silence, and they have not moved for the entire ten minutes I have been down here.
That’s it for the facts.
I imagine that somewhere in the sea of dark green ink that paints their arms, they have something together to capture their bond. Perhaps a rock with waves lapping up the edges, much like the one they are staring at; something that symbolizes their singularity. It really is a lovely image to watch them sit in silence, their body language so unceremoniously communicating their easy love. I hope they never change.
I’m perhaps most perplexed by their ages. She can’t be over 40. Her side profile is too colorful, and her hair is too black, but not as a result of dye. His age changes depending on the angle. From directly behind, he looks like he could be in his thirties: confidently built, relaxed in posture, no kids yet. But from the side, he gained thirty years. His cheeks have the swell that comes with more years of breathing air, and he looks like he’s taking a break from his teenage son who keeps calling his mom something boys shouldn’t be calling their moms.
They have been together since they were in their early twenties. Sitting in silence, one lackadaisical limb strewn over the other’s, breathing probably in the same lengths is their preferred state. They do it well.
They don’t have kids. They talked about it, as many couples their age do. During this conversation, they explained to each other that they thought they should be more financially stable before considering children. Then they laughed when they realized they were saying the same thing to each other. Now they just keep using that excuse as their reasoning while it goes unspoken that they really just don’t need children. They both came from large families; the recreation of that chaos was not their first priority.
They look like the kind of people who would enjoy a rodeo (albeit one in Calif.) but who could also easily work in a field like physical therapy or construction project management.
They are two people who can sit quietly and watch waves of water hit a giant rock full of pelicans.
They don’t like any of that indie folk music.
They share a car, a gray Ford Explorer from a year with two zeros in the middle.
He looks like he could drink Coors Light like it’s water. She can keep up too. That said, they hate socializing save for their families and a small group of friends.
Their team used to be the Raiders, back when they were in Oakland, so they have bitterly started supporting the Niners.
They aren’t really music people. Nor are they movie people. They enjoy watching shows like Hell’s Kitchen, Survivor, and Law and Order SVU.
They are both pragmatic realists, though they don’t call themselves that; they would just look at you funny if you asked them what their dreams in life are.
They’re not particularly political. She is going to lug herself to the polls with a vague awareness of moral obligation, he probably will not though he isn’t sure yet. Their rent is high, but they aren’t stupid.
He smells like bergamot and vanilla without any cologne. She loves that.
She doesn’t smile at people she passes on the street. He loves that.