Welcome to our series of articles on the singles scene in Tel Aviv. Life, love, and lust, all wrapped up in a Middle Eastern glow and penned by the wonderful Pixi…if you’re easily offended, look away now!
The One you can’t have: the Tel Aviv Untouchable
The DJ throws out yet another classic, “House of the Rising Sun” – a song that indicates repression and a sense of the forbidden. He strokes my hand and moves slowly against my body to the music. Within minutes he leans in towards me and whispers the words “I’m dying for you”. I can’t take it any longer, we dance closely, I feel his warm breath down my neck.
I grab his hand and whisk him out of the bar. Outside the rain beats down heavily, an unforgiving start to the Tel Aviv winter. We run for shelter but the adrenaline stops us in our tracks. We skid to a halt and fall on top of each other in an erotic embrace. Wet hands everywhere, sliding in and out, drenched by rain and desire. The minute our lips touch there’s no turning back.
This is everything that should not happen with an untouchable. This is everything that will not happen with an untouchable. This is why we call them ‘untouchables’ – so that the fantasy can remain a fantasy and we can get back to average kisses with real men and women.
The Untouchable is a necessary tool for every young city dweller. We have the fuck buddies, the heart breakers, the guy that never called and our date from Friday night. But we need something beyond that, something that provides excitement on an entirely different level.
The beauty of the untouchable is that there is no goal involved. There is no waiting for phone calls, Facebook friend requests or cryptic messages. You can find an untouchable anywhere. They can be old, young, of any relationship status. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they are the subject of your inner most fantasies with no intention of turning fantasy into reality….ever.
The trick is to make sure that the Untouchable remains untouched. I have broken the rules a few times and believe me, there is no positive outcome. If you touch your untouchable you will simply add to the eroding illusion of the perfect human being. We need them among us, if anything, to give us a glimmer of hope. My current Untouchables remain in tact, thriving in their own hotness and providing me with hours of entertainment and happy thoughts. My number #1 is a bar tender at the Taxi Dermi (Rehov Ha’’Rakevet). I don’t know his name, nor do I want to. All I know is that he works every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday and after closing time we have heart stopping, out-of-control sex on the bar….and in my head. He will never let me down, and we will never have an awkward moment – just imaginary sex, no strings attached.
If you decide to touch your untouchable, be warned. This will most likely be the result:
The DJ throws out yet another classic, “House of the Rising Sun” – a song that indicates repression and a sense of the forbidden. He strokes my hand and moves slowly against my body to the music. By the song’s end we are already stumbling home, a tangled mess of two drunken bodies, trying desperately to keep erections and make up in tact. After a 5 minute session of banging up against the wall, it’s over. The excitement proved too much and you are tired. You offer him the chance to sleep over but he politely declines, citing work as an excuse. You give him your number and it disappears into his iPhone, along with countless other one night stands.
The power of touch is a wonderful thing. But the effect of the ‘un-touch’ is far more exhilarating and always leads somewhere….to the next fantasy.
Next up: The Walk of Shame
Read more great stuff from Pixi here.