WorkInProgress
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Before this year, I was essentially not telling anybody whatsoever about my tickling fetish. The few people I did tell tended to be long-distance friends whom I saw on temporary sojourns in cities other than my own. (And, incidentally, the friends I've told so far have just about all been women.) This year, I've told some of my local female friends, selectively, and as it happens, nobody's been shocked so far. One called it "so cool," one called it "adorable," and the most recent one didn't quite gush over it but didn't show any revulsion or surprise either.
I should add one more detail to help prepare for the next paragraph. Last year, I unveiled a work of creative writing (forgive me for being vague about the genre) that involved a fetish community, with a fetish slightly more familiar to outsiders than tickling. I knew at the time that it was inevitable that friends would wonder where the idea came from, and how I know so much about the subject. When the question comes up, I answer cryptically, "When you write about something real, disguise it beyond all recognition."
And now, let me share the amusing way that I spilled the beans to the most recent friend. She and I were having dinner in the restaurant where we're having the NYC munch this Friday night. While my friend was in the ladies' room, I told the manager that I'd like to get a big table in the back room for a bunch of friends on Friday. She cheerfully obliged (this restaurant can use some good business). Then, after my friend came out (my friend, by the way, already knew that piece of creative writing I mentioned), the manager said "See you Friday" in front of her. She said, "What's Friday?" I said, "A little get-together of one of the subcultures I belong to." She asked, "You want to tell me what it is?" I said, "Maybe some time when I've had quite a few glasses of wine." But then, I said, "I belong to a fetish community. That's what I wrote about in that piece you saw last year, except that my fetish would seem so bizarre and ludicrous that I had to use something more familiar, so..." and then, in a Freudian slip, I said, "...so I normalized it to tickling. Wait, wait, I meant to say, I normalized it to..." (the fetish that the piece is about). So, now she knew what my real fetish is. And, she wasn't shocked. In fact, she proceeded to tell me what her brand of kinkiness is...and I was a little shocked. (Not much, just a little.)
Anyway, just thought I'd entertain you with that.
I should add one more detail to help prepare for the next paragraph. Last year, I unveiled a work of creative writing (forgive me for being vague about the genre) that involved a fetish community, with a fetish slightly more familiar to outsiders than tickling. I knew at the time that it was inevitable that friends would wonder where the idea came from, and how I know so much about the subject. When the question comes up, I answer cryptically, "When you write about something real, disguise it beyond all recognition."
And now, let me share the amusing way that I spilled the beans to the most recent friend. She and I were having dinner in the restaurant where we're having the NYC munch this Friday night. While my friend was in the ladies' room, I told the manager that I'd like to get a big table in the back room for a bunch of friends on Friday. She cheerfully obliged (this restaurant can use some good business). Then, after my friend came out (my friend, by the way, already knew that piece of creative writing I mentioned), the manager said "See you Friday" in front of her. She said, "What's Friday?" I said, "A little get-together of one of the subcultures I belong to." She asked, "You want to tell me what it is?" I said, "Maybe some time when I've had quite a few glasses of wine." But then, I said, "I belong to a fetish community. That's what I wrote about in that piece you saw last year, except that my fetish would seem so bizarre and ludicrous that I had to use something more familiar, so..." and then, in a Freudian slip, I said, "...so I normalized it to tickling. Wait, wait, I meant to say, I normalized it to..." (the fetish that the piece is about). So, now she knew what my real fetish is. And, she wasn't shocked. In fact, she proceeded to tell me what her brand of kinkiness is...and I was a little shocked. (Not much, just a little.)
Anyway, just thought I'd entertain you with that.
