So, who's right? We may never know.
As with every discussion of tickling, this article only succeeds in raising questions.
Tickling is a puzzle defining an enigma bounded by a maze wrapped an a conundrum surrounded by a riddle explaining a mystery.
I have an intense tickle fetish. My wife knows this. The first time we dated I was eighteen and she was seventeen. She has told me a thousand times since then that she can't stand being tickled, and husbands who tickle their wives need a good talking to. Remember that. She has told me for decades that she hates getting tickled.
One evening when our, then, college attending youngest daughter was home, I pinned my wife down on the floor and tickled her ribs until her rib ridges were flat and my fingers were tired. She qualified as exhausted.
When I finally let my wife up, my daughter asked, "Are you two ever going to grow up?" My wife said, "What difference does it make to you?"
I might say or at least know that tickling helped usher the next generation into the world, at least in this family.
Women in general are gorgeous and delightful creatures. Ticklishness and tickling makes them exponentially prettier.
