Eternal Tomboy
TMF Master
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2001
- Messages
- 980
- Points
- 18
I’m so depressed right now I can barely stand it. My friend Max has decided to move away. He’s taking another job upstate, and thus will probably end my friendship with him (since I only really saw him in conjunction with the bookstore that we both worked at). We were never call-you-up-to-chat friends since I quit working at the bookstore, but when we saw each other (when I would go into the bookstore to shop or socialize) we would chat and hang out for awhile.
I’ve known him for a little over five years (worked with him for three), and in that time I have developed a monster crush on him. Now, I know for a married woman, this is a big no-no. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really more of a schoolgirl crush than anything else. Given the opportunity, I would never sleep with him, or even do anything beyond innocent flirtations. But damn, he was a hell of a lot of fun to flirt with. His physical strength, and his playful personality are what drew me to him. He was one of the only guys I knew that could pick me up and toss me around like I weighed nothing (which is saying something since I’m no itty-bit. I’m about 5’7” and weigh 150lbs.) Since I’m a bit of a tomboy, I’ve always loved the rough stuff, and Max was never one to back down from a physical challenge. I knew all it took was a couple playful pushes from me, and the game was on.
Only those of you that have read my “party tickles” thread will know about my buddy Max. For those of you that haven’t, I’ll tell you that he only recently discovered that I’m ticklish. Before just a few months ago, our physical flirtations never included tickling (at least nothing more than a poke or two). But since his discovery, he’s enjoyed taking advantage of his new....well, advantage 🙂 Which is why his move is SO TOTALLY TRAGIC. It was over before it even started. So, unless Max and I cross paths again (which would be purely by chance), this will be my last tickling tale that involves him....(sniffle).
My friend Beth called me and told me that the people from the bookstore were giving Max a big send off at one of his co-worker’s house (another guy I knew when I worked there), and she wanted to know if I wanted to go. I told her that I would, and asked if she would drive me (because I planned on getting a bit drunk and didn’t want to have to drive myself home). She obliged and told me that she’d pick me up at nine. The whole time I was getting ready for this party, I KNEW I was going to be depressed as hell during the festivities, but I couldn’t turn down what might be my last chance to see Max.
Beth and I got there at about 9:30 and the party was just warming up. The last stragglers were showing up around 10:30, and the party was in full swing by 11:00. I made sure to hug Max hello when I arrived, but I didn’t chat with him for too long because just being around him made me want to cry. So what did I do? I got myself a beer...and then another....and another. As most of you know, alcohol and a bad mood don’t really mix too well. But I was determined not to be the sobbing girl that every loud, and drunken party seems to have by the end of the night. I stayed the hell away from Max (which in hindsight was pretty stupid) and kept what little conversation we did have to superficial bullshit that most people talk about while standing on line at the grocery store. At one point, Max asked me if I was mad at him, which I felt pretty bad about. I certainly didn’t want him to think that, but I also couldn’t seem to talk to him for any length of time without my eyes welling up. But with my best attempt at a smile, I assured him that I wasn’t mad at him, and playfully cuffed him on the shoulder (before walking away to get myself another beer.)
At about 2:00 in the morning, some people started to leave the party, and things started to calm down a bit. The drinking games were slowing, the music lowered, and those that were wasted had either passed out in the bedrooms, or had thrown-up and been driven home. Thankfully, I wasn’t part of the truly wasted crowd, but I definitely had a bit more than a buzz going on. I was in that nearly-drunk stage where I’m painfully honest and tend to speak exactly what’s on my mind. I also tend to be a bit emotional. Now, if I’m in a good mood, this can be a very good thing. I’m usually a very happy drunk, and love to laugh and goof around with my fellow beer guzzlers. But on this particular night, my spirits were definitely low, and I don’t think I had laughed all evening.
I could see that Max was saying good-bye to all those people who were leaving the party. Beth said that she wanted to leave in about a half-hour. I said fine, and went out in the backyard to sit on the porch swing they had out there. My plan was to make it through the next thirty minutes without crying, and without making a total ass out of myself in front of Max....so much for the best laid plans.
I had bummed a cigarette off of one of my friends (I had quit over two years ago, but was in the mood for one), and sat myself down outside to have a smoke and look at the stars. There were a few people on the lawn outside, but for the most part, they were wrapped up in their own conversations and didn’t notice me lazily swinging on the porch. I heard the sliding glass door open, and looked over to see Max coming outside for a smoke. He spotted me on the swing and came over. SHIT!!!! I took a long drag, felt it burn all the way down my throat, and slowly exhaled.
“Hey, mind if I join you?” Max said with a smile.
“Nope.” was all I said and then took another drag.
“I thought you quit.” he said, lighting his own cigarette.
“I did, but I just felt like having one, so I thought, what the fuck.” I said.
“Yeah, well you’d better not get hooked again. I know how much of a bitch you were when you were going through your nic-fits, and I’d rather not have to go through that again.” he joked.
“Didn’t you know? I’m a bitch anyway. And even if I do start up again, you won’t have to worry about it because you won’t be here.” I said and felt a lump forming in my throat. I took another deep drag in the hopes of coaxing the lump down with the puff of smoke. It didn’t work.
“Guess that’s true, but you shouldn’t start up again anyway, it’s a nasty habit.” he said and took a drag. As he let out a cloud of smoke, he looked over at me and smiled.
“Hypocrite.” I said and cracked a weak smile.
“That’s me. So....what’s up with you? You’ve been in a shitty mood all night, and you act like you’re avoiding me.” he said.
I took one last drag from my cigarette, smoking the damn thing clean up to the filter, and stubbed it out on the floor. “Can’t a girl be in a shitty mood for no reason?”
“Yeah, I guess. But you’re usually not. I think I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen you in a bad mood, and even then there was always a reason for it. So what gives?” he asked and stubbed out his cigarette too.
I crossed my arms, and let out a sigh. The lump in my throat grew, and I knew that with my next admission, the tears would start. “I’m gonna miss you, Max.” I said and felt the first warm tear trickle down my cheek.
“That’s what this is about? C’mere.” he said and wrapped me into a hug.
“I knew if I talked to you AT ALL tonight, I was going to start crying. You just HAD to come out here for a smoke, didn’t you? I was almost home free.” I said and softly hit him. A few more tears managed to escape, but I tried like hell not to let the floodgates open.
“Sorry. But it’s better to know you were acting like this because you’re gonna miss me rather than thinking you’re avoiding me. I was beginning to think I had the plague or something.” he joked.
“You do.” I teased and wiped the tears from my face.
“Thanks.” he said with a laugh. He broke our hug, but kept his left arm around me on the back of the porch-swing. “So, are you gonna be a bummer for the rest of the night?” he asked and gently shoved me with his body.
“That was the plan. Actually, Beth is driving me home soon, so I won’t be depressing you for too much longer.” I said and wiped the last stubborn tears from my cheeks.
“Oh, c’mon. You don’t want the last picture in my head to be of you with teary eyes and a runny nose, do you?” he joked to try and get me to smile.
“I think this is the best you’re gonna get right now.” I said.
“I think we can do better.” he said and tickled my knee.
The combination of alcohol and depression seemed to numb my ticklish reactions a bit, all he got out of me was a small jump.
“I don’t think that’s gonna work tonight.” I said and pushed his hand away.
“Bet it will.” he said and used the hand that was wrapped around my shoulder to tickle my neck and his other hand to tickle the knee that he had just gone after.
At first I had no reaction, but as his fingers continued to tickle, I could feel myself becoming a bit more sensitized to his touch. I scrunched up my shoulders and tried to push his other hand off my knee, but I could feel the ticklish sensations beginning to win out over my beer buzz. After about twenty seconds, he had gotten me to giggle. That was all the fuel he needed. “Wait a sec...what was that? Did you just laugh?” he said and kept tickling.
“No!” I said and began to really laugh out loud.
“Yes you did! I got ya now.” he said and tickled my ribs with both hands.
“Max, STOP!!” I yelled while laughing. I was doubled over on the swing with my arms trying to press down on his hands enough to make him stop tickling my sides (did that EVER work for a ‘lee? Probably not). I was also trying not to fall off the swing as it began to pitch back and forth with our struggle. Max must have noticed that I was a few seconds away from falling head first off the swing because he stopped tickling me long enough to pull me back up and onto his lap. I was now sitting sideways on his lap with my legs straight across the rest of the swing. He had one arm wrapped around my waist, and the other across my lap.
“Hard to be depressed when someone is tickling you, huh?” he grinned.
“No. Just because you got me to laugh doesn’t mean I’m not still depressed.” I said stubbornly.
“Well, if THAT didn’t help, maybe THIS will....” he said and used the hand that was across my lap to tickle underneath my knees.
My legs instinctively curled up and trapped his hand in place, but he still kept tickling. I tried to wrestle his one hand away with both of mine. I would succeed for a moment, but then get tired and lose my grip, and he would go right back to tickling me in various places. I was totally hysterical by this point. He had let me fall back so that I was laying down on the swing (with his lap underneath my butt). In the position that I was in, my upper body was at a slight decline, thus making it nearly impossible (in my semi-drunk condition) to sit back up. The only thing that kept me from falling off the swing was Max’s freakishly strong arms. Still incredibly buzzed, I felt both uncoordinated and weak in trying to defend myself. My hands were grabbing blindly for his, but whenever I would make contact long enough to hold onto him, he would just use the other hand to tickle me. I couldn’t fight him much longer before I totally just gave up and let him have free reign.
“Happy yet?” he teased and kept tickling.
“FUCK!!” was all I could yell before falling back into hysterics.
“Is that a yes or a no?” he asked and paused his tickling onslaught.
Breathless, I panted for a few seconds before answering. “Yes.”
“Good. Thought that might work.” he said and helped me back to a seated position on his lap.
When he pulled me up, I got a bit dizzy and rested my head against his chest. The butterflies in my stomach were going crazy and my head was swimming with the remains of my beer buzz and the endorphins Max had created. I had to admit it.....I actually WAS happy at that moment. I was always the kind of girl that could be pulled from the doldrums with a sound tickling (assuming that the cause wasn’t something too serious), and this case was no different. I knew I would be sad again tomorrow when the thought of losing my friend Max resurfaced, but for the moment, my tickle-induced happiness remained. After my head cleared a bit, I climbed down from his lap and sat next to him. He took out his pack of cigarettes, and pulled one out for himself. Before closing it back up, he looked over at me and held the pack up. I gratefully took one, swearing that this wasn’t the start of a habit. He lit mine first, and then his own. After we both took our first drag, he looked over at me and smiled.
“I’m gonna miss you too.” he said and nudged me with his shoulder.
“You’d better.” I said with the first real (non-tickle related) smile of the night.
Hope you liked Max's farewell...I know I did.
Maggie
I’ve known him for a little over five years (worked with him for three), and in that time I have developed a monster crush on him. Now, I know for a married woman, this is a big no-no. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really more of a schoolgirl crush than anything else. Given the opportunity, I would never sleep with him, or even do anything beyond innocent flirtations. But damn, he was a hell of a lot of fun to flirt with. His physical strength, and his playful personality are what drew me to him. He was one of the only guys I knew that could pick me up and toss me around like I weighed nothing (which is saying something since I’m no itty-bit. I’m about 5’7” and weigh 150lbs.) Since I’m a bit of a tomboy, I’ve always loved the rough stuff, and Max was never one to back down from a physical challenge. I knew all it took was a couple playful pushes from me, and the game was on.
Only those of you that have read my “party tickles” thread will know about my buddy Max. For those of you that haven’t, I’ll tell you that he only recently discovered that I’m ticklish. Before just a few months ago, our physical flirtations never included tickling (at least nothing more than a poke or two). But since his discovery, he’s enjoyed taking advantage of his new....well, advantage 🙂 Which is why his move is SO TOTALLY TRAGIC. It was over before it even started. So, unless Max and I cross paths again (which would be purely by chance), this will be my last tickling tale that involves him....(sniffle).
My friend Beth called me and told me that the people from the bookstore were giving Max a big send off at one of his co-worker’s house (another guy I knew when I worked there), and she wanted to know if I wanted to go. I told her that I would, and asked if she would drive me (because I planned on getting a bit drunk and didn’t want to have to drive myself home). She obliged and told me that she’d pick me up at nine. The whole time I was getting ready for this party, I KNEW I was going to be depressed as hell during the festivities, but I couldn’t turn down what might be my last chance to see Max.
Beth and I got there at about 9:30 and the party was just warming up. The last stragglers were showing up around 10:30, and the party was in full swing by 11:00. I made sure to hug Max hello when I arrived, but I didn’t chat with him for too long because just being around him made me want to cry. So what did I do? I got myself a beer...and then another....and another. As most of you know, alcohol and a bad mood don’t really mix too well. But I was determined not to be the sobbing girl that every loud, and drunken party seems to have by the end of the night. I stayed the hell away from Max (which in hindsight was pretty stupid) and kept what little conversation we did have to superficial bullshit that most people talk about while standing on line at the grocery store. At one point, Max asked me if I was mad at him, which I felt pretty bad about. I certainly didn’t want him to think that, but I also couldn’t seem to talk to him for any length of time without my eyes welling up. But with my best attempt at a smile, I assured him that I wasn’t mad at him, and playfully cuffed him on the shoulder (before walking away to get myself another beer.)
At about 2:00 in the morning, some people started to leave the party, and things started to calm down a bit. The drinking games were slowing, the music lowered, and those that were wasted had either passed out in the bedrooms, or had thrown-up and been driven home. Thankfully, I wasn’t part of the truly wasted crowd, but I definitely had a bit more than a buzz going on. I was in that nearly-drunk stage where I’m painfully honest and tend to speak exactly what’s on my mind. I also tend to be a bit emotional. Now, if I’m in a good mood, this can be a very good thing. I’m usually a very happy drunk, and love to laugh and goof around with my fellow beer guzzlers. But on this particular night, my spirits were definitely low, and I don’t think I had laughed all evening.
I could see that Max was saying good-bye to all those people who were leaving the party. Beth said that she wanted to leave in about a half-hour. I said fine, and went out in the backyard to sit on the porch swing they had out there. My plan was to make it through the next thirty minutes without crying, and without making a total ass out of myself in front of Max....so much for the best laid plans.
I had bummed a cigarette off of one of my friends (I had quit over two years ago, but was in the mood for one), and sat myself down outside to have a smoke and look at the stars. There were a few people on the lawn outside, but for the most part, they were wrapped up in their own conversations and didn’t notice me lazily swinging on the porch. I heard the sliding glass door open, and looked over to see Max coming outside for a smoke. He spotted me on the swing and came over. SHIT!!!! I took a long drag, felt it burn all the way down my throat, and slowly exhaled.
“Hey, mind if I join you?” Max said with a smile.
“Nope.” was all I said and then took another drag.
“I thought you quit.” he said, lighting his own cigarette.
“I did, but I just felt like having one, so I thought, what the fuck.” I said.
“Yeah, well you’d better not get hooked again. I know how much of a bitch you were when you were going through your nic-fits, and I’d rather not have to go through that again.” he joked.
“Didn’t you know? I’m a bitch anyway. And even if I do start up again, you won’t have to worry about it because you won’t be here.” I said and felt a lump forming in my throat. I took another deep drag in the hopes of coaxing the lump down with the puff of smoke. It didn’t work.
“Guess that’s true, but you shouldn’t start up again anyway, it’s a nasty habit.” he said and took a drag. As he let out a cloud of smoke, he looked over at me and smiled.
“Hypocrite.” I said and cracked a weak smile.
“That’s me. So....what’s up with you? You’ve been in a shitty mood all night, and you act like you’re avoiding me.” he said.
I took one last drag from my cigarette, smoking the damn thing clean up to the filter, and stubbed it out on the floor. “Can’t a girl be in a shitty mood for no reason?”
“Yeah, I guess. But you’re usually not. I think I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen you in a bad mood, and even then there was always a reason for it. So what gives?” he asked and stubbed out his cigarette too.
I crossed my arms, and let out a sigh. The lump in my throat grew, and I knew that with my next admission, the tears would start. “I’m gonna miss you, Max.” I said and felt the first warm tear trickle down my cheek.
“That’s what this is about? C’mere.” he said and wrapped me into a hug.
“I knew if I talked to you AT ALL tonight, I was going to start crying. You just HAD to come out here for a smoke, didn’t you? I was almost home free.” I said and softly hit him. A few more tears managed to escape, but I tried like hell not to let the floodgates open.
“Sorry. But it’s better to know you were acting like this because you’re gonna miss me rather than thinking you’re avoiding me. I was beginning to think I had the plague or something.” he joked.
“You do.” I teased and wiped the tears from my face.
“Thanks.” he said with a laugh. He broke our hug, but kept his left arm around me on the back of the porch-swing. “So, are you gonna be a bummer for the rest of the night?” he asked and gently shoved me with his body.
“That was the plan. Actually, Beth is driving me home soon, so I won’t be depressing you for too much longer.” I said and wiped the last stubborn tears from my cheeks.
“Oh, c’mon. You don’t want the last picture in my head to be of you with teary eyes and a runny nose, do you?” he joked to try and get me to smile.
“I think this is the best you’re gonna get right now.” I said.
“I think we can do better.” he said and tickled my knee.
The combination of alcohol and depression seemed to numb my ticklish reactions a bit, all he got out of me was a small jump.
“I don’t think that’s gonna work tonight.” I said and pushed his hand away.
“Bet it will.” he said and used the hand that was wrapped around my shoulder to tickle my neck and his other hand to tickle the knee that he had just gone after.
At first I had no reaction, but as his fingers continued to tickle, I could feel myself becoming a bit more sensitized to his touch. I scrunched up my shoulders and tried to push his other hand off my knee, but I could feel the ticklish sensations beginning to win out over my beer buzz. After about twenty seconds, he had gotten me to giggle. That was all the fuel he needed. “Wait a sec...what was that? Did you just laugh?” he said and kept tickling.
“No!” I said and began to really laugh out loud.
“Yes you did! I got ya now.” he said and tickled my ribs with both hands.
“Max, STOP!!” I yelled while laughing. I was doubled over on the swing with my arms trying to press down on his hands enough to make him stop tickling my sides (did that EVER work for a ‘lee? Probably not). I was also trying not to fall off the swing as it began to pitch back and forth with our struggle. Max must have noticed that I was a few seconds away from falling head first off the swing because he stopped tickling me long enough to pull me back up and onto his lap. I was now sitting sideways on his lap with my legs straight across the rest of the swing. He had one arm wrapped around my waist, and the other across my lap.
“Hard to be depressed when someone is tickling you, huh?” he grinned.
“No. Just because you got me to laugh doesn’t mean I’m not still depressed.” I said stubbornly.
“Well, if THAT didn’t help, maybe THIS will....” he said and used the hand that was across my lap to tickle underneath my knees.
My legs instinctively curled up and trapped his hand in place, but he still kept tickling. I tried to wrestle his one hand away with both of mine. I would succeed for a moment, but then get tired and lose my grip, and he would go right back to tickling me in various places. I was totally hysterical by this point. He had let me fall back so that I was laying down on the swing (with his lap underneath my butt). In the position that I was in, my upper body was at a slight decline, thus making it nearly impossible (in my semi-drunk condition) to sit back up. The only thing that kept me from falling off the swing was Max’s freakishly strong arms. Still incredibly buzzed, I felt both uncoordinated and weak in trying to defend myself. My hands were grabbing blindly for his, but whenever I would make contact long enough to hold onto him, he would just use the other hand to tickle me. I couldn’t fight him much longer before I totally just gave up and let him have free reign.
“Happy yet?” he teased and kept tickling.
“FUCK!!” was all I could yell before falling back into hysterics.
“Is that a yes or a no?” he asked and paused his tickling onslaught.
Breathless, I panted for a few seconds before answering. “Yes.”
“Good. Thought that might work.” he said and helped me back to a seated position on his lap.
When he pulled me up, I got a bit dizzy and rested my head against his chest. The butterflies in my stomach were going crazy and my head was swimming with the remains of my beer buzz and the endorphins Max had created. I had to admit it.....I actually WAS happy at that moment. I was always the kind of girl that could be pulled from the doldrums with a sound tickling (assuming that the cause wasn’t something too serious), and this case was no different. I knew I would be sad again tomorrow when the thought of losing my friend Max resurfaced, but for the moment, my tickle-induced happiness remained. After my head cleared a bit, I climbed down from his lap and sat next to him. He took out his pack of cigarettes, and pulled one out for himself. Before closing it back up, he looked over at me and held the pack up. I gratefully took one, swearing that this wasn’t the start of a habit. He lit mine first, and then his own. After we both took our first drag, he looked over at me and smiled.
“I’m gonna miss you too.” he said and nudged me with his shoulder.
“You’d better.” I said with the first real (non-tickle related) smile of the night.
Hope you liked Max's farewell...I know I did.
Maggie
that is awesome that you have memory like that for any tickle that has gone on with you or with something else. i wish i had that, lol.
