I agree that kink compatibility is nice, but it shouldn't be the primary focus of any relationship. I offer two examples from my experience to illustrate:
The only woman I can say that I truly loved absolutely adored tickling once I exposed her to it. She had recently gotten out of a long unpleasant (and possibly abusive, but I didn't pry if she wasn't ready to talk about it) marriage, and was delighted to have a means of expressing affection playfully, as well as having a harmless and gentle way to exert a dominant influence during intimacy. However, no matter how much enjoyment we both took from it, our relationship couldn't last because I was ten years her junior and in no position to support her and her two children. (The fact that she looked at me like a dog that's been shown a card trick whenever I made a Star Wars reference didn't help our non-sexual communication any either, but that was a minor detail) In the end, I encouraged to be with another man who was able to provide for her better than I ever could. That's what convinced me that I loved her, that I wanted what was best for her even if it meant that she wouldn't be with me anymore. I could have selfishly insisted upon still seeing her solely on the basis of our carnal compatibility, but that would hardly have been fair to her and especially not fair to her children. The moral of the story: Tickling alone does not true love make.
The last woman that I had a big stupid crush on positively hated to be tickled, and told me so in no uncertain terms that she would not be on the receiving end. (She seemed to get a charge out of tickling me in retaliation, though...) Even with that effectively removed as a potential source of commonality, that was not the reason I was so infatuated with her. I fell completely loopy for her because I could talk to her and she'd know what I was on about, since she was a Sci-Fi Geek (and proud of it) too. We could discuss Isaac Asimov or the X-Men without blank stares of incomprehension, which is what I get from most women. She was concerened enough about my well-being to challenge me to get out of my current unsatisying job, and go learn to do something more fulfilling that utilized the talents she saw in me (which I am still in the slow yet steady process of achieving). It didn't work out for a number of reasons, but we still talk on-line when her schedule permits. The moral of the story: When you find someone who understands you and cares about you, the fact that she doesn't share your fetish is way down the list of relevant concerns.
Also, finding a partner was the last thing on my mind when I joined the TMF. Truth be told, would you really want to be involved with someone who advertised themselves solely on the basis of their fetish? Defining yourself based upon a single aspect of your personality is rarely if ever healthy, but I'd much sooner choose my love of Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Comics/Gaming or my eclectic musical tastes (My CD rack has Metallica rubbing elbows with Yanni and the London Symphony) or even my Conservative politics to be the one thing people associate with me, rather than my "Cast of a Thousand Fetishes." If you let your sexuality dominate your life that way, you end up like Scott: Trying desperately to be rid of what you've allowed to become the focal point of your existence, feverishly embracing the first thing that promises to fill the resultant void, and eventually going to a tourist-trap in the ass-end of the Balkans to listen to a group of charlatans repeat vague and unimaginative "prophecies" and show you blurry photos of lens-flares in exchange for a nominal donation. (And I say that not to mock Scott, but out of the deepest pity for him.)