When I was younger and really starting to pray about my future wife, someone recommended that I follow the advice of Habakkuk 2:2 and write out my vision of what I wanted in a wife in as much detail as I could muster, and know exactly what to look for. So I did.
I wrote character traits. She must be intelligent, have an substantial sense of humor, be creative, and talented. I had piano or guitar in mind for the talent bit, but I was open to any gifting. I’ve definitely found all that in my wife, and she makes the clarinet sexy.
I wrote personality elements. She must be loving, compassionate, and both willing to submit and unwilling to be walked upon. Again, my wife turned out to be a bull’s-eye.
If I kept tickling her, she might just pee herself. Just a little drip, mind you.
And naturally, I wrote physical characteristics. I wanted a curvy (particularly in the hips and butt), flat-chested woman with brown eyes and brunet hair. Well, my wife has the perfect curves, and it took me all of like thirty seconds to learn to love my bride’s buxomness. I rather like big boobs now, actually. Her hazel eyes are close enough to brown and are totally unique, and while I married a blonde, she has grown darker over the years. Overall, I was extremely happy with how this turned out, even though it wasn’t exactly as I wrote. I did get the “innie” belly button I so desperately desired, though. Yes, I was that specific.
All of the above were flexible “requirements”. I was objective enough to recognize how young I was (which I was) and how my tastes were likely to change (which they did). These were all nice-to-have features, but not deal-breakers. I did have one non-negotiable, however.
My wife must be ticklish. And boy is she.
Over time, she’s become less so. It requires more expertise and/or luck today than it once did. At one time, a nudge on the ribs might have turned her legs into noodles. If I kept at it, she might just pee herself. Just a little drip, mind you.
These days, she’s ticklish literally all over her body (I’ve tested just about everything including fingernails and teeth), if you get the touch just right, but few places have the raw urine-inducing power that was once so readily available.
I’m just thankful for what I’ve got. I irritate her to no end with my perpetual tickling, but she’ll just have to get over it. God and I had a deal.
And it’s not like I’m grabbing one of the few remaining sweet spots and just keep going until she completely voids her bladder. Or at least I haven’t yet.
No promises on tomorrow, though.