I figured I'd use a free minute to tell another story. This one happened a few years back when I was a Junior in high school.
For as long as I can remember, I've been the victim of tickle assaults. I have uncles, aunts and cousins who would reduce me into a pathetic puddle of giggles at nearly every family function. I have friends who can force me to do just about anything with a well placed poke to the ribs and the threat of more to follow. I've had boyfriends who think my hypersensitivity is one of the funniest things ever and who had taken advantage of it on countless occasions. I've always had a love/hate relationship with tickling. Most of the time, I like the interaction and the playful energy that surrounds it, but other times it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
Back then, I knew I liked tickling in the form of play fights and wrestling and flirting. It was a cute way to bond with a lot of my guy friends. There was this one boy who I was completely enamored with, who was also a good friend of mine. Ed was tall with soft blue-green eyes and a killer smile that made me melt. I'll admit, I'm not proud of how shamelessly I flirted with that boy, but it worked out for me in the end.
We were at your typical high school party; too many kids crammed into a far too small house (because the parents were away or didn't care), drinking the cheapest beer and booze we could get our hands on. In my group of friends, they considered me to be a little bit of a wet blanket; I didn't like to get smashed (I still don't, actually) and I wasn't much of a party person. I made an excellent designated driver, though.
We were at my friend Will's house, I think. Will is basically like an older brother to me, we've known each other since we were diapers. Unlike me, Will is the first to arrive (first to break something) and last to leave a party, always. At the time, I was just beginning to realize my feelings for Ed; we talked and were always taking goodnatured jabs at one another, but it wasn't anything serious.
I watched a few of the guys as they played some video game I didn't care about, stretching on the couch. In high school, I always wore my birkenstock sandals- always, no matter what the weather was like, they were that comfy (yes, there were countless hippie jokes hurled at me on a daily basis and yes, thousands of merciless scratches to my feet whenever they were exposed).Will wandered into the area, stumbling into several people and slurring apologies, as he often did when the night grew later and his blood-alcohol content grew higher. I made some remark about him being a clumsy drunk and he retaliated by jumping on top of me in some elaborate flying maneuver. He landed right around the joint of my knee and he let out another drunken giggle.
I turned around as best I could and smacked him in the arm after I recovered from the initial pain and tried to force him off of me. I tried just about everything (pinching, punching, bucking, verbal assaults, you name it), but then I tried another approach. I turned again and placed a well-aimed two fingers into his side. He jumped, being hyper-ticklish himself, which allowed me to move my legs a little, but he promptly landed, just inches below his previous position.
"Now you're going to get it..." he flicked off one of my shoes and then the other and began to sloppily scratch the soles of my foot. Usually, the rough tickling wasn't the worst for me, but he found the killer spot where my arch meets my instep and managed to work me into steady hysterics. I was attracting the attention of other party goers, who laughed at my predicament as I dug my face into the couch cushion. In my struggle, I managed to pull one foot away and twist myself around a little to get a better angle for escape.
"Ed, dude, come help me out!" Will called with a laugh, as his fingers eased up. I caught a breath and started to plead for him to get off. Will pulled my leg back and sat on both of my shins, smiling cheekily. My crush approached, putting down the drink he had been nursing all night, and bent down next to my face.
"Having fun?" he asked, I knew he was sober and enjoying my situation.
"Come on, man, help a brother out!" Will called and Ed offered me a smile and a shrug. I cringed and pulled, but Will's entire drunken attention was now focused on keeping my legs trapped in a ticklish hell. Ed's sober tickling was a hell of a lot worse than Will's drunken assault. He gently probed the bottoms of my foot until he located the worst spots and focused on them. I could see his face the entire time, his eyes were locked on mine as he smiled and I screamed. He was a skillful tickler (I would later find out that he was a guy who really liked to tickle). It was starting to become a little too much, I liked tickling when it was playful, not torturous, and it was starting to feel a little too much like the latter.
"Will, get off her." Will's girlfriend, Chelsea, finally came to my rescue, pulling her boyfriend away and offering me an apologetic look. The ordeal had only lasted about three minutes, but I was still a disheveled mess when they were done with me. I scrambled into a fetal position, after grabbing my shoes and putting them back on.
The rest of the night, Ed and I talked and laughed with one another- the tickle attack was a pretty good ice-breaker, in hindsight- and he left with my phone number. All in all, It was a productive night.
-Rynn
P.S. I just saw this
and laughed for thirty seconds straight. I love funny smilies. :]
For as long as I can remember, I've been the victim of tickle assaults. I have uncles, aunts and cousins who would reduce me into a pathetic puddle of giggles at nearly every family function. I have friends who can force me to do just about anything with a well placed poke to the ribs and the threat of more to follow. I've had boyfriends who think my hypersensitivity is one of the funniest things ever and who had taken advantage of it on countless occasions. I've always had a love/hate relationship with tickling. Most of the time, I like the interaction and the playful energy that surrounds it, but other times it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
Back then, I knew I liked tickling in the form of play fights and wrestling and flirting. It was a cute way to bond with a lot of my guy friends. There was this one boy who I was completely enamored with, who was also a good friend of mine. Ed was tall with soft blue-green eyes and a killer smile that made me melt. I'll admit, I'm not proud of how shamelessly I flirted with that boy, but it worked out for me in the end.
We were at your typical high school party; too many kids crammed into a far too small house (because the parents were away or didn't care), drinking the cheapest beer and booze we could get our hands on. In my group of friends, they considered me to be a little bit of a wet blanket; I didn't like to get smashed (I still don't, actually) and I wasn't much of a party person. I made an excellent designated driver, though.
We were at my friend Will's house, I think. Will is basically like an older brother to me, we've known each other since we were diapers. Unlike me, Will is the first to arrive (first to break something) and last to leave a party, always. At the time, I was just beginning to realize my feelings for Ed; we talked and were always taking goodnatured jabs at one another, but it wasn't anything serious.
I watched a few of the guys as they played some video game I didn't care about, stretching on the couch. In high school, I always wore my birkenstock sandals- always, no matter what the weather was like, they were that comfy (yes, there were countless hippie jokes hurled at me on a daily basis and yes, thousands of merciless scratches to my feet whenever they were exposed).Will wandered into the area, stumbling into several people and slurring apologies, as he often did when the night grew later and his blood-alcohol content grew higher. I made some remark about him being a clumsy drunk and he retaliated by jumping on top of me in some elaborate flying maneuver. He landed right around the joint of my knee and he let out another drunken giggle.
I turned around as best I could and smacked him in the arm after I recovered from the initial pain and tried to force him off of me. I tried just about everything (pinching, punching, bucking, verbal assaults, you name it), but then I tried another approach. I turned again and placed a well-aimed two fingers into his side. He jumped, being hyper-ticklish himself, which allowed me to move my legs a little, but he promptly landed, just inches below his previous position.
"Now you're going to get it..." he flicked off one of my shoes and then the other and began to sloppily scratch the soles of my foot. Usually, the rough tickling wasn't the worst for me, but he found the killer spot where my arch meets my instep and managed to work me into steady hysterics. I was attracting the attention of other party goers, who laughed at my predicament as I dug my face into the couch cushion. In my struggle, I managed to pull one foot away and twist myself around a little to get a better angle for escape.
"Ed, dude, come help me out!" Will called with a laugh, as his fingers eased up. I caught a breath and started to plead for him to get off. Will pulled my leg back and sat on both of my shins, smiling cheekily. My crush approached, putting down the drink he had been nursing all night, and bent down next to my face.
"Having fun?" he asked, I knew he was sober and enjoying my situation.
"Come on, man, help a brother out!" Will called and Ed offered me a smile and a shrug. I cringed and pulled, but Will's entire drunken attention was now focused on keeping my legs trapped in a ticklish hell. Ed's sober tickling was a hell of a lot worse than Will's drunken assault. He gently probed the bottoms of my foot until he located the worst spots and focused on them. I could see his face the entire time, his eyes were locked on mine as he smiled and I screamed. He was a skillful tickler (I would later find out that he was a guy who really liked to tickle). It was starting to become a little too much, I liked tickling when it was playful, not torturous, and it was starting to feel a little too much like the latter.
"Will, get off her." Will's girlfriend, Chelsea, finally came to my rescue, pulling her boyfriend away and offering me an apologetic look. The ordeal had only lasted about three minutes, but I was still a disheveled mess when they were done with me. I scrambled into a fetal position, after grabbing my shoes and putting them back on.
The rest of the night, Ed and I talked and laughed with one another- the tickle attack was a pretty good ice-breaker, in hindsight- and he left with my phone number. All in all, It was a productive night.
-Rynn
P.S. I just saw this
and laughed for thirty seconds straight. I love funny smilies. :]
