My Girlfriend And Our Tickle Fights

Sunday, June 11, 2006

I don’t know what it is, but Sunday just must be the day out of the week that odd things happen to me here. Last week, there was the beach incident; this week was a tickle episode.

I had just gotten onto the Car Rapide, heading home from Libertie VI, when this old lady (probably in sixties and she was more woman than lady) reached over and tickled my side. I say tickle because I am the writer of this piece. Others may have called it a poke, touch, sexual harassment, punch, but, I’m sticking with a tickle, although, I didn’t laugh. She would have lost if I were in the mood for a tickle fight.

I didn’t see it coming, so I was fairly startled. I actually jumped and probably screeched like her little granddaughter. I have no clue what she was doing. I don’t know if she wanted to touch me or what. I mean, getting tickled by old women may be on my top ten list of things that I want to happen in a day, but it definitely isn’t the number one thing.

I figured that the only thing I could do was brush it off and continue on my journey. I mean, this is what happens sometimes on a 15 cent ride home. If you want to be involved in something interesting happening to you, it is typically a good investment.

Well, my lady friend (at this point, I suppose I could say we were dating and I’d reached second base and on my way to third without having to say a word) decided to start chatting with me. The guy sitting across from me and beside her was laughing in sympathy for me. I mean, there isn’t anything funnier than to laugh at the little foreign kid and his sixty year old lover converse in a packed car rapide.

So, what did we talk about? As with any relationship I’ve been in, I asked no questions and did none of the talking. She did ask me about 5 or 6 times how old I was. I should have told her a lot younger than 23, but I am unsure what the legal age of consent is here. She also asked me if I had a sister…I don’t know why. Ash, if you get a postcard in the mail from someone claiming to be your sister-in-law, please return to sender. Soon after our conversation started, her friends jumped into the conversation too. I think they approved of our relationship. At this point, I could see our love blossoming, atleast for the next stop or two. I was really hoping a Shakira or Ryan Cabrera song would come on the radio, but most car rapides have little to no electronic devices.

Well, my stop finally came as sweat was dripping down my forehead. Unfortunately, I decided she was moving alittle too fast for a sweet, innocent, southern kid like myself, so I had to break things off. She was my first girlfriend here in Senegal, so I will always remember her.

I miss her already.