Years ago at a party, a couple of guys decided it would be funny to pick me up by my wrists and my ankles, drag me into my bedroom, and tickle me (their brand of "tickling" involving poking me hard in the ribs). I told them to stop. I SCREAMED at them to stop. I got my hands on a stapler and a pair of scissors and tried to stab them to get them to stop. (I wasn't joking around, either -- I was fully prepared to jam those scissors between their ribs if that's what it took.) They pried my weapons out of my hands and kept tickling. When they finally did stop, I told them they were fucking assholes. And I privately thought everyone else at the party was also a fucking asshole for not stopping them.
But it wasn't until I posted about the incident in the usenet newsgroup we were all part of that one of them actually caught on that I had in fact not enjoyed it, it wasn't fun for me, and I had been genuinely terrified and miserable. He actually apologized, quite nicely. The other guy? Never said a word.
I once kicked a good friend in the head because he wouldn't stop tickling me; I kicked another friend down a flight of stairs for it. Pure reflex, both times -- fight-or-flight kicked in and my body picked "fight".
Fortunately, since then I've managed to alert pretty much everyone ahead of time that tickling me will probably get them seriously injured, so it hasn't happened again. Apparently I'm sufficiently scary that they believe me. ;)
I have very ticklish legs and some friends (and siblings) would take advantage of that fact. Mostly, I didn't protest very much because it didn't bother me very strongly, though I did warn them that if I kicked them reflexively it was their fault and that if I fell and injured myself (I'm kind of a klutz, and, yes, I do have a tickling related scar) I would never let them forget it. Mostly, though, with those understandings I was okay with it.
But I have one strong memory of being at a theatre competition with touchy-feely theatre kids in high school, and while my friends C. and M. mercilessly when for my legs, a boy from another school who was sitting next to me joined in. We immediately shut down, and I believe I let out a loud, "What the fuck, man?" (and probably kicked him in the shins). I was glad my friends closed ranks around me, but I was just unnerved -- I didn't like physical contact very much, except from a few close friends whom I let get away with things like this, and for a strange boy to tickle my thighs really upset me. He, of course, had no idea what the problem was.
But it wasn't until I posted about the incident in the usenet newsgroup we were all part of that one of them actually caught on that I had in fact not enjoyed it, it wasn't fun for me, and I had been genuinely terrified and miserable. He actually apologized, quite nicely. The other guy? Never said a word.
I once kicked a good friend in the head because he wouldn't stop tickling me; I kicked another friend down a flight of stairs for it. Pure reflex, both times -- fight-or-flight kicked in and my body picked "fight".
Fortunately, since then I've managed to alert pretty much everyone ahead of time that tickling me will probably get them seriously injured, so it hasn't happened again. Apparently I'm sufficiently scary that they believe me. ;)
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But I have one strong memory of being at a theatre competition with touchy-feely theatre kids in high school, and while my friends C. and M. mercilessly when for my legs, a boy from another school who was sitting next to me joined in. We immediately shut down, and I believe I let out a loud, "What the fuck, man?" (and probably kicked him in the shins). I was glad my friends closed ranks around me, but I was just unnerved -- I didn't like physical contact very much, except from a few close friends whom I let get away with things like this, and for a strange boy to tickle my thighs really upset me. He, of course, had no idea what the problem was.
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