Helena, I agree with you 100%. Most of my friends know I like tickling, but I don't ever try to get them into it. They generally express varying degrees of interest. "What does it do for you?" is a common question. I tell them what it is like for me and let them direct the extent of the conversation. But always there is the hope that they will move out of their comfort zone and give it a try.
There was one young woman from a long time ago however, whom I did persistently encourage. I've told this story before, but here it is again...
This isn't precisely on topic and for that I apologize, but it's an interesting and true story nonetheless. In the mid-eighties I worked as a Network Controller for medium sized Telecommunications firm in a remote computer facility near the border of MD and DC. It was here that I consider to be the peak of my tickling career and it lasted for seven years. It was a somewhat high-security place so there were no windows and the front door was alarmed so that we'd always know if anybody was coming. Because this facility was remote from the corporate office, there were only two or three people that worked there at any givin time. The computer operator's (many of which were young women) eight-hour shift consisted of maybe an hour of real work and the rest was just slack-time. This combination of lengthy boredom and privacy was the perfect setting to introduce tickling, and once it's been done a couple of times, the women get comfortable with it.
One such woman was a redhead we'll call Laura. She was rather petite, and had a cute little body and a perky freckle face, and one hell of a temper if you pushed her the wrong way. I would often massage her shoulders and back and she would tickle me in return. There was no bondage or restraints, I just had to sit there and take it. Sometimes we'd move into my office with the carpeted floor and she'd sit on me and vent all her frustrations on my ribs and armpits.
A couple of times I'd try tickling her, but she had no trouble making it clear to me that it wasn't at all cool with her. I asked why. At first she'd just tell me she hated being tickled and that was all, end of subject. One day she admitted that she hated it because she associated her being tickled with her hated ex-husband who used to sit on her legs and sadistically tickle her feet until she was in a tearful rage. I told her that tickling can be a wonderful experience if done in a consensual non-abusive environment. "Not with me," she'd say. "That's just not going to happen."
I'm not sure why, because I'm not a Ler by nature, but I really wanted Laura to experience tickling in a favorable light. I wanted her to be able to enjoy it. Over the following months I would softly and patiently encourage her to let me tickle her feet. I told her that I would stop the minute she said so, and that I would start very slow. She would say no, that her feet were so ticklish, she couldn't stand them to be touched in any manner whatsoever. I explained to her that this is because her feet are unaccustomed to being touched, and that I could help her overcome this. Finally one day, she acquiesed and said "okay." I think her seeing how much I enjoyed being tickled made her a little hungry to experience it as well.
I knew that I'd reached a critical pivotal point with Laura. If I screwed up this one chance, I'd not ever get another. I said, "Okay Laura, I'm going to take hold of your ankle very firmly, so as not to tickle. Are you okay with it?" She nodded, so I grabbed her ankle and held it firmly. She clenched up, nervous, but didn't say anything. "As long as you're okay with it, I'm just going to hold your ankle for a while, until you're a little more comfortable with it. There's not going to be any surprises. No sudden moves." We talked for a while, just with me holding her ankle, and ultimately she relaxed. I felt a surge of emotion. She was trusting me totally, and for whatever reason, that made me feel really good about myself...a feeling that was too rare in my young adult life. I knew I was doing the right thing by her.
The next step was to get the soles of her feet accustomed to touch. I did this by slapping them briskly while holding her ankle. By stimulating the nerve cells on her soles in this non-tickling manner, they reached a state where they were more receptive to touch. Eventually I was able to hold Laura's foot in my hand, and she'd be able to relax. Of course every now and then she'd get an anxiety attack and I'd let go immediately, but I wasn't chagrined. We were making real progress here. She was developing a stronger trust in me.
Finally one day, I was holding her foot, and she was totally relaxed. I told her that I was going to take one finger and stroke her arch very slowly. ..."Remember, I'll stop the minute you say so. That will always be the deal." She said okay. I traced my index finger down the middle of her arch. She gasped, and squinched her face, but didn't pull away. I then held her foot in my hand again, not wanting to push too far. "Laura, do you realize what just happened? I tickled your foot and you were okay with it!!" She gave me a big hug and tickled me affectionately.
Every day, I'd tickle her feet in this manner. First I'd slap them a bit, then hold them in my hand, and then softly glide my fingers down them. She'd giggle and squirm, but as time went on, she was willing and able to take more and more. The key was to know and understand how far to take it, and when to stop. It staggered me to realize that a person who hated being tickled as vehemently as Laura did could learn to enjoy it, but my ultimate reward came a few weeks later.
One day I was working in the Telco room in the back of the facility on a Saturday. Laura came on duty at 3:00 pm and didn't realize I was there. I finished up after a couple of hours and walked back into the computer room. Nobody was there but I heard voices coming from one of the offices. Laughter in fact, and coming from my own office. I stood outside the door for a moment listening. I clearly heard Laura giggling happily, along with an occasional surprised burst of laughter in a male voice. The truth dawned on me and I was thunderstruck. Laura had brought her boyfriend to work for some tickle play! I had converted her and she had converted him. The euphoria I felt with this revelation was staggering! I quietly slipped away from the door and left the facility. I never told Laura what I heard that day. Sadly, she quit the job a few weeks later, having found one closer to her Baltimore home.
I've no doubt that Laura is still enjoying tickling to this day, and nothing would please me more than to run into her at one of these local gatherings.
I do agree with Helena, and most of the time I wouldn't try to change anybody, but I think that under certain circumstances, any code of conduct has its rare exceptions. Laura's hatred of tickling was a direct result of abuse and betrayal. Although she hasn't alluded to it, I suspect the same is true of my neighbor, Anna. If she'll let me, I'm going to try and help her the way I helped Laura.
Hello, 
