please don't touch me there

It simply baffles me at times how in the world humans ever make relationships work.

Unless you're working with a matching agency or some online dating service that gives you hours and hours worth of personality profiles to fill out, it's really just a shot in the dark.

Sure, there's always that first spark of interest. But what REALLY tells you that you're compatible?

When it comes down to the nitty-gritty of everyday life, some little thing that you've never thought that much about suddenly becomes annoying after 5 years of being around it. Those little things that no one ever talks about that, in the course of any long-term relationship, (and I include friendship in this) will eventually pop-up.

Most of us know ourselves well enough to know what we like and dislike. But the majority of our likes and dislikes matter little when first getting to know someone. They're just irrelevant. Does it matter that you have to put your right shoe on first? Not really. Will it make a difference if you always take out the left contact first? I don't think so. Does it impact the greater world that you have to have your coffee at 130 degrees? Well, except for the poor coffee shop guy who hasn't learned to read a thermometer, no.

There are certain things, though, I've found that really should be upfront.

Growing up with an older brother and sister meant I was routinely subjected to tickle torture of all sorts and sizes. Jim and Denise knew my sides and my feet were my weakest areas. I'd be laughing so hard I couldn't breathe and would BEG them to stop. Of course that only made them want to do it more.

There's a reason my sister's screennames have included "evil" and "sick puppy."

Over the years I've tried to NOT be ticklish. Sometimes just telling a person, "sorry, not ticklish" and hoping they aim for an area where I'm not ticklish does the trick. Why tickle when you're not going to get a rise out of someone? My sides aren't as ticklish anymore. I've left a couple layers of fat in those areas just hoping the padding will dull the pain.

In college, it became crystal clear that I'm not a "touchy" kind of person. I get jumpy when people are touching me. Especially if it's by surprise.

My friend Jill discovered this pretty quick. If you're going to hug me, you have to warn me. Just something as simple as, "come 'ere and give me a hug" will suffice. She learned that even the hand-on-the-shoulder move had to be prefaced with a disclaimer letting me know that another hand was about to touch me: "such strong shoulders." (I was working out at the time, so I bought it.)

Poking my side just drives me batty. Even with fair warning.

My strangest "never touch" areas are my belly button and the dimple under my Adam's apple.

I HATE it when people, anyone/anytime, touch those areas.

It especially drives me nuts when I repeatedly ask someone to stop touching me there (of course in a light-hearted and jovial manner) and they keep doing it.

I suppose it all stems from growing up a very closeted kid. I never knew what was appropriate touch and what wasn't, so I didn't touch at all.

To this day, I don't touch other people, for fear it would be mis-interpreted.

And, as luck would have it, my lack of touching has been misinterpreted as not caring and not interested. Mostly by women, who are the touchiest-feeliest lot of them all. Seriously, you don't have to touch my leg to let me know that you're enjoying the conversation.

And for the straight guys, you don't have to grab and yank on my nipples to let me know that you think I'm alright.

Nipples? Off-limits in public or outside of intimacy.

By the way, is there a class I missed somewhere in J.H. or H.S.? How is it that so many guys have such perfect aim for nipples? Even under 5 layers of clothes, one swift move and my poor tic-tacs are throbbing. How the hell?

I've gotten better about other people touching me. I've gotten used to spontaneous hugs from kindergartners and first graders. And even the occasional adult touching me on the shoulder or leg.

But for god's sake, please leave my nipples be.