FJSLikesTickling
Registered User
- Joined
- May 3, 2005
- Messages
- 49
- Points
- 8
I know I posted about this topic yesterday, but I wanted to share something a little more fleshed out. I originally posted it on FetLife, where I do most of my writing these days. This isn’t exactly a complaint—more of a cathartic vent session, laced with a healthy dose of sarcasm and absurdity.
I live on Long Island.
Which, to many people, conjures images of the fifth ring of Dante’s Inferno—where the condemned are punished by parallel parking on Sunrise Highway while “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” blares on an eternal loop.
And for all its faults (and I assure you, we have them), I do live in proximity to New York City.
The city that gave birth to:
And you’re telling me there isn’t a single tickle munch in the five boroughs?
Not even a discreet footnote in the dungeon newsletter?
No informal “Giggle Night” hosted by a guy named Todd in a Brooklyn basement?
What the actual fuck.
Is there a secret handshake I missed?
Should I be wearing a pink carnation in my lapel on alternate Thursdays?
What if none of my garments have lapels?
I know about NEST—and I’m planning to go, even if I don’t know anybody.
And I’ve heard whispers of munches in towns far and wide. Like I’m Luke Skywalker hearing tales of the Clone Wars.
But New York City?
But if you’re into eating local oysters on Shaker furniture while glamping on Governor’s Island?
We got you!
I’m not asking for much. I’m not trying to start a cult. I’m just a middle-aged guy with a loving wife (who gave her blessing, God help her), two misbehaving cats, and a desire to lovingly torment someone’s ribcage with the purest of intentions.
So if anyone out there does know the secret knock—or has a lead on a munch, a mixer, or knows where I can find the sacred conch shell I need to blow on to summon Team Tickle—please share.
Or, failing that...
Just tell me where to find the clown orgy.
I’ll adjust.
I live on Long Island.
Which, to many people, conjures images of the fifth ring of Dante’s Inferno—where the condemned are punished by parallel parking on Sunrise Highway while “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” blares on an eternal loop.
And for all its faults (and I assure you, we have them), I do live in proximity to New York City.
The city that gave birth to:
- Punk rock
- Abstract expressionism
- Bagels
- Sex and the City
- Lou Reed’s attitude
- Taxi Cab Confessions and every weird fever dream it inspired
And you’re telling me there isn’t a single tickle munch in the five boroughs?
Not even a discreet footnote in the dungeon newsletter?
No informal “Giggle Night” hosted by a guy named Todd in a Brooklyn basement?
What the actual fuck.
Is there a secret handshake I missed?
Should I be wearing a pink carnation in my lapel on alternate Thursdays?
What if none of my garments have lapels?
I know about NEST—and I’m planning to go, even if I don’t know anybody.
And I’ve heard whispers of munches in towns far and wide. Like I’m Luke Skywalker hearing tales of the Clone Wars.
But New York City?
But if you’re into eating local oysters on Shaker furniture while glamping on Governor’s Island?
We got you!
I’m not asking for much. I’m not trying to start a cult. I’m just a middle-aged guy with a loving wife (who gave her blessing, God help her), two misbehaving cats, and a desire to lovingly torment someone’s ribcage with the purest of intentions.
So if anyone out there does know the secret knock—or has a lead on a munch, a mixer, or knows where I can find the sacred conch shell I need to blow on to summon Team Tickle—please share.
Or, failing that...
Just tell me where to find the clown orgy.
I’ll adjust.
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