An imaginary conversation about not being ticklish

I like it when you do that…

It doesn’t tickle?

No, I’m not ticklish.

Anywhere?

No, when I was 8 years old or so, I decided not to be ticklish anymore.

Is that even possible?

Yep. I did it, so it must be possible.

Is that a challenge?

Not at all. I am confident in my unticklishness at this point.

I may still have to test that statement.

I would expect no less. I am ready for the test at any time.

I’ve never heard of anyone getting over being ticklish before.

It wasn’t easy.

How did it work?

I had to get someone to tickle me, and resist giving in to the ticklish feeling. Over and over. Eventually I just stopped being ticklish.

That sounds fun.

It wasn’t. I hated being tickled.

Who did you get to tickle you?

I don’t remember. That’s weird. It seems like I should remember that.

Some random stranger off the street?

No, it must have been a neighbor or a friend or something.

A boy or a girl?

Seems like it would have to have been a boy. But I really don’t remember. It could have been one of my friends, I guess.

If you’re expecting to be tickled, it would be fairly easy not to give in.

Yeah. The surprise tickles were harder to overcome. It took quite a while. Maybe a year. I think it was when I was in the  third grade.

Did it ever get to a point where you liked being tickled?

No. Eventually it was just  neutral. Sometimes people, well, always boys, wouldn’t believe me.  They’d tickle me. Get annoyed because it didn’t make me squirm.

Did you tell them you weren’t ticklish?

Yep. But they never believed me.

Then what would they do?

When they didn’t get a reaction they would tickle harder and harder until they’d just get angry. I’d get even angrier. At recess one boy straddled me and tickled me until he bruised my ribs. It hurt. He was sorry about that after he let me up again.

He felt bad?

No, I kneed him pretty hard in the nuts.

Then he felt bad?

He felt something. I’ve never liked not having my wishes respected, even if I couldn’t put it into words.

You felt like it was a violation?

I think I must have, though it was an expected and frequent one. Relatives, friends of parents, bullying older boys…I hated for them to have that power over me.

Were you always a such a vengeful little girl?

Pretty much.

But you don’t try to hide it?

Why would I? I was eight at the time. I haven’t kicked a guy in the nuts for decades.

Oh, good.

You’re very safe with me. At least physically.

You feel very safe, at least physically. I suspect I might be in some emotional peril.

I sure hope so. I know I am.

Would you feel better if I reassured you that the emotional peril is extreme?

Definitely. You know how I love any sort of reassurance.

I am happy to provide as much as you need.

And you even mean that!

I do.

Well, anyway, I think the discipline involved in getting over being ticklish might have been good training for things later in life.

Like what? Oh…wait…a few things just became clearer.

Exactly.

I should probably do a thorough check for spots that might still be ticklish.

You have my permission.

Should I wear a cup in case I find a spot you missed?

I think if you just tell me to be very still you should be safe.

Be very, very, very still. And stop laughing.

 

 

 

Radiant rant

Love isn’t brains, children, it’s blood. Blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love’s bitch, but at least I’m man enough to admit it.
–Spike

Though I do try to be grateful every day, and though I am generally a happysmilinglaughing type of person, sometimes I am unhappy. I’m human, after all, though I hate to admit it. This has been a hard year. I’m allowed to feel it.

Other times, more rarely, I am fortunate enough to not only feel happy, but also “more.”

This is one of those “more” times and I want to acknowledge it because I think it’s just as important as those “less” times and certainly far more enjoyable.

It could end in an instant. So could anything else. So the fuck what. I could be hit by a beer truck crossing NW Marshall tomorrow. A 16 ton weight could land on my bedroom. It seems unlikely. I’m happy right now. People are smiling at me on the street because I’m roaming around all smiling radiant and turned on by life, love, the universe and the green world around me.

Be rational, you say?

Fuck. That. Shit.

I’m going to be happy. I am going to be turned on to things. I am going to use my senses. I am going to feel things even if my rational brain says no. I am going to go for walks and be mind fucked by how Spring in the Willamette Valley has every color of green that can be imagined and some that can only be seen.

I am going to enjoy every second with this new person in my life. (Hey, Thirteen.) And I am not going to be rational about it, second guess what it may or may not turn out to be or worry about it. I am not going to try to rein it in, direct it, or do anything but live it every day while it lasts.

Could it be a huge disaster? Could this new guy be a raging dick who breaks me heart? YES, and that will be on him not on me. Unless I cause the disaster myself. That could also happen.

Could it be a huge miracle that changes everything? YES, and if it is won’t that be amazing?

It could be a lot of things. I don’t care. Fuck could be. Fuck should be. It will be what it is. I am going to take it as it comes.

Isn’t that unlike me?

I may be love’s bitch, but I will enjoy the ride.

Tragedy and penises

It has not escaped me that my blog posts which get the most views fall into two categories:

  1. The ones dealing frankly with emotional struggles, near tragedy, financial problems and general strife
  2. The ones dealing with penises and masturbation

If I could combine the two into one post involving some sort of emotional trauma caused by or resolved by penises and/or masturbation, my blog viewership increase dramatically. It could take over the world!

Alas, I have no such current trauma to report and in my single state am unlikely to encounter any penises in the near future. As always, I will naturally keep the blog posted if I do encounter any.

Update: since starting to write this post, i have encountered a very promising penis but still have no penis related emotional trauma to report. I’m sure given my history there could be soon, but he appears to have very honorable intentions in spite of the penis. He’s got every appearance of being a good guy.

I could say something about enjoying some forms of trauma, but my mother could be reading this so I will skip that for now.

To summarize, there was really no reason for this post at all except to use the word penis repeatedly in a completely gratuitous manner. I probably should also mention masturbation in the summary paragraph since it was in the opener but I just don’t have it in me.

Sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night.

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