A Tattoo story.
I wrote this piece as a continuation to an earlier note that I wrote called “More about being a Fake."
In that piece, I had briefly mentioned a threesome with a fabulous artist named Itamar Newman and a girlfriend of mine.
But, I have NOT told ALL in that story (as usually is the case, otherwise, the story gets to be too long...)
There was more to the story of my one night, ecstasy infused threesome, with Itamar that night.
I have met Itamar years before that night.
I was very young and still unmarried.
I was working as a waitress and a barmaid in a very popular local pub in Tel Aviv.
I used to have a group of men that came before the busy hours, to chat with me about life, about pain, and about girls....
They viewed me, as a portal to the female psyche - they felt that they can ask me ANYTHING and that I will tell ALL (which I did, according to my young, and very limited understanding.)
Itamar used to come often too.
He was always an artist. Wild and creative and totally out there.
He used to wear ANYTHING he felt like.
Be it a 1700’s man’s black hat, a magician’s hat, a cape, or colorful pants- to me, he looked VERY handsome in them all.
It appeared that he liked me too.
One night, drunk and courageous, I slipped into Itamar’s arms.
And there, in the warmth of his embrace- my world collapsed.
On his beautiful tanned forearm, Itamar had a tattoo.
Now, I live in New Zealand, so I do LOVE tattoos, but this was NOT a regular tattoo.
On his forearm, Itamar had tattooed blue numbers.
Blue numbers like the holocaust survivors have......
like his parents have......
like so many of the elderly people, in my aching country have.......
I felt my world spinning....
I have lost all lust for Itamar.
He became a living symbol of the lantern of pain.
By his actions, he promised to NEVER forget and NEVER forgive...... And I AM all about true healing and forgiveness......
So, the rest is history.
We have not “hooked up“ that night.
I went on, to get married to Roni and then divorced, and Itamar stayed a distant friend.
A kind of friend you run into on occasion, but you never call.
Itamar painted the wall length paintings that hang in my restaurant.
He never signed them.
He said they were not “him,” that he only painted them for the money.
They were truly beautiful.
People often commented on how lovely they were.
But I guess Itamar did not feel lovely.
He had a dark streak.
Later in life, we had that threesome, with my girlfriend.
We had a single night together.
My girlfriend liked Itamar very much, and went to his house the next day.
They had sex again.
She was my girlfriend and she was dear to me, and she was just getting a divorce from a sadistic medical doctor/ husband.
She was trying to get pregnant, and her doctor husband did not tell her that he was infertile, instead, he had her go on one of those long, fertility treatments that made her fat and sick.
When she found out, she divorced him.
Now, for the first time, she saw in Itamar something she liked.
A man she could connect with, so I stepped out of the picture, and hoped they would connect.
But they did not.
And later I heard that Itamar was crossed with me.
That he felt that I used him and that he was annoyed that I never contacted him after our threesome.
I do not know if the rumor was true. I never checked the facts with him.
Jules (my husband), googled him and said that he is still an artist.
That he teaches art and that he is a buddhist now.
I hope that he found the courage to let go of his ancestral pain and to move on.
In that piece, I had briefly mentioned a threesome with a fabulous artist named Itamar Newman and a girlfriend of mine.
But, I have NOT told ALL in that story (as usually is the case, otherwise, the story gets to be too long...)
There was more to the story of my one night, ecstasy infused threesome, with Itamar that night.
I have met Itamar years before that night.
I was very young and still unmarried.
I was working as a waitress and a barmaid in a very popular local pub in Tel Aviv.
I used to have a group of men that came before the busy hours, to chat with me about life, about pain, and about girls....
They viewed me, as a portal to the female psyche - they felt that they can ask me ANYTHING and that I will tell ALL (which I did, according to my young, and very limited understanding.)
Itamar used to come often too.
He was always an artist. Wild and creative and totally out there.
He used to wear ANYTHING he felt like.
Be it a 1700’s man’s black hat, a magician’s hat, a cape, or colorful pants- to me, he looked VERY handsome in them all.
It appeared that he liked me too.
One night, drunk and courageous, I slipped into Itamar’s arms.
And there, in the warmth of his embrace- my world collapsed.
On his beautiful tanned forearm, Itamar had a tattoo.
Now, I live in New Zealand, so I do LOVE tattoos, but this was NOT a regular tattoo.
On his forearm, Itamar had tattooed blue numbers.
Blue numbers like the holocaust survivors have......
like his parents have......
like so many of the elderly people, in my aching country have.......
I felt my world spinning....
I have lost all lust for Itamar.
He became a living symbol of the lantern of pain.
By his actions, he promised to NEVER forget and NEVER forgive...... And I AM all about true healing and forgiveness......
So, the rest is history.
We have not “hooked up“ that night.
I went on, to get married to Roni and then divorced, and Itamar stayed a distant friend.
A kind of friend you run into on occasion, but you never call.
Itamar painted the wall length paintings that hang in my restaurant.
He never signed them.
He said they were not “him,” that he only painted them for the money.
They were truly beautiful.
People often commented on how lovely they were.
But I guess Itamar did not feel lovely.
He had a dark streak.
Later in life, we had that threesome, with my girlfriend.
We had a single night together.
My girlfriend liked Itamar very much, and went to his house the next day.
They had sex again.
She was my girlfriend and she was dear to me, and she was just getting a divorce from a sadistic medical doctor/ husband.
She was trying to get pregnant, and her doctor husband did not tell her that he was infertile, instead, he had her go on one of those long, fertility treatments that made her fat and sick.
When she found out, she divorced him.
Now, for the first time, she saw in Itamar something she liked.
A man she could connect with, so I stepped out of the picture, and hoped they would connect.
But they did not.
And later I heard that Itamar was crossed with me.
That he felt that I used him and that he was annoyed that I never contacted him after our threesome.
I do not know if the rumor was true. I never checked the facts with him.
Jules (my husband), googled him and said that he is still an artist.
That he teaches art and that he is a buddhist now.
I hope that he found the courage to let go of his ancestral pain and to move on.
