I used to succumb to the two-handed tickle as much as the next person. But somewhere along the line, I lost it.

I'm not sure how it happened. Maybe the effect just wore off as I got older. At any rate, the two women in my house have all but given up trying to "get me," since apparently I can't be got.

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Growing up, I did my share of tickling, and received just as much in kind. The ribs and armpits were the usual targets, and if you could get a girl to announce that she might lose control of a bodily function, then you did your job.

Catching someone sleeping was a particularly easy target, being able to wrap you arm around their legs and use the other hand to make 'em squirm.

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But back to my lack of physical funny bone. I did not notice anything was wrong until after I got married, and the wife would, from time to time, attempt to make me giggly, probably after I'd goosed her and she decided it was time for a little retaliation.

She tried the surprise attack, the "feather touch," and everything in between. No dice - she could make me fidget, unless she caught me totally unaware and in that case it was just the shock of someone invading your space, and not the result of a ticklish reaction.

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Our own Dr. K (Dr. Anthony Komaroff, whose column runs in Sunday's Lifestyles section) testified in a recent article that "no one has adequately answered the question of what causes" ticklishness.

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Dr. K had more concrete information on the top theories why we squirm and laugh.

"Tickling bonds people. A mom tickles her baby, the baby laughs, the mom smiles, and they share a happy moment together. Similarly, kids who tickle each other may bond over the experience.

"Ticklish spots of the body, such as the abdomen or neck, tend to be more vulnerable. Learning to protect them from tickling as a child may help you protect them from harm."

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So the experts contend you "learn" to be ticklish as a bonding and protection device. Maybe I've bonded and protected myself enough in this life, and my body just decided that was one tool it could discard from the human toolbox.

Maybe my ticklishness will return, maybe it's irretrievably lost.

But for my sake, I hope those around me don't just give up and assume I'll never squirm again. Never is a long time to go without a little coochie-coo and chuckle-chuckle!

Jerry Hitchcock is a copy editor for The Press. He can be reached at 664-8176, Ext. 2017, or via email at [email protected].