The Squeeze

I am part of a family of squeezers, and not in a hugging sort of way, I mean literally grabbing your arm and squishing the sinew, bringing both sides of the hand together. My cousin used to harness the power of the world by clutching the legs of his He-Man, intensely focusing energy into his every plastic detail. This was a necessary step in preparing the synthetic gladiator for the battle about to go down at Castle Greyskull, and it was a great way to psych out your other 6 year old competitors. My sister and I preferred actual human flesh to polypropylene limbs, and while our clutching styles differ somewhat, the end result is the same – a release of epic proportions that only a squeezer could understand.

Is there a gene for squeezing? I think that there is, and I think my sister and I have received it from both sides of our family, making it our destiny to express the phenotype of one that, on occasion, seeks out objects (living tissue in our case) to clench in our hands. I am told that this gene is particularly strong in my father’s lineage, as my nana employed the use of the squeeze during punishment. Maybe some sort of desensitization took place during all those times he was getting scolded for hanging Barbie dolls, and what was left, and passed on, was an enjoyment of performing this act.

My sister and I find that the upper arm clench tends to be the most fulfilling of all the squeezes, as this is generally a more meaty region of the body. There is often a negligible amount of uncontrolled shaking that also takes place during the flesh squishing – this used to effect my sister quite badly when she was a child, and her appearance would take on that of an epileptic at a rave. The clenching usually lasts anywhere from 10 seconds to a minute, depending on your needs at that moment, which is why it is important to have a willing participant for any squeeze session. The last thing you want is for someone to start resisting, tensing their muscles up, and starting to fight back. This kind of behavior makes it impossible for the squeezer to get the proper depth of squeeze from the squeezee; your fingers need to reach or almost reach the bone for optimal satisfaction.

For those of you out there that are not amongst the squeezers of society, the only thing I can equate the after squeeze effects to, would be perhaps the euphoric feeling felt after eating a gourmet meal or runners’ high upon completion of a marathon – whichever strikes your fancy.

There have been times that I have wanted to squeeze things other than people, but I have never actually acted upon these urges. For example, during my last trip to Balboa Park, I was standing at the Koi Pond with Butterfinger’s sister, admiring the gigantic fish swimming peacefully in their enclosure. Instead of being reflective and wondering about their relationships or how they spend their days, I had an overwhelming urge to reach in there and snatch up one of the innocent fish and squeeze; they were just SO MEATY! I resisted, choosing to clench my fists together tightly instead, but not before blurting out my intentions of gripping up the Koi to Butterfinger’s sister.

Squeeze responsibly.