It is often admitted, in the analytical treatment of some fairly specific concept, that the wish to understand is less likely to be served by the search for a single strict statement of the necessary and sufficient conditions of its application than by seeing its applications—in Wittgenstein’s simile—as forming a family, the members of which may, perhaps, be grouped around a central paradigm case and linked with the latter by various direct or indirect links of logical connexion and analogy.
—  P. F. Strawson, Individuals: An Essay in Descriptive Metaphysics

Bottom line: Sometimes I hate being a ‘ler. Legitamately hate it.
There are keys differences present between trying to interact as a ‘lee and as a ‘ler.
Here’s one:
As a ‘ler, should you ever decided to be forthcoming with this whole world with someone uninitiated, you’re in a position where you’re aking someone to have something done to them. You’re asking them to put themselves in a position that most people dislike being in, i.e. being tickled, for you. It’s the equivalent of asking people with a peanut allergy to allow you to feed them a peanut to most people.
As a ‘lee, should we use the peanut simile again, it’s now you asking someone else to feed you a peanut, letting them know you enjoy the effects. To put you in a situation that you’re assuring them you’re comfortable in. It’s you asking someone to do something to you, that, aside from time and effort, really won’t detriment them in any way.
The factor of being judged is what stops most of us from revealing these things, but for me, as a ‘ler, I’m all too aware I’m likely going to be trying to feed peanuts to the allergic. So I don’t. The odds aren’t good. So in real life I get very little tickling done simply for that fact.

I’ve had to struggle with accepting this part of myself for most of my life. I still am struggling with it. I still sit there sometimes wishing to anything that would goddamn listen that I wasn’t like this. I do.

I’ve talked so many people through accepting themselves, not being ashamed of things they can’t change, working through it. I’ve seen, wonderfully, a lot of those people succeed and even enjoy this in real life with people. I’m not one of them. And occasionally I struggle to find myself content in that role. I struggle to accept that this is just the way it is. I struggle to want to keep doing this.

But it’s the way it is. Sometimes you don’t get to feel content. Sometimes you watch the happy ending and you don’t play the lead. Sometimes you’re just the odd one out.

So I’ll play happy with it all. I’ll write the fun and hot things, describe all the wonderous aspects of something I oh so seldomly interact with. I’ll just adjust the telescope so others can see the stars.

And I’ll keep on pretending that’s enough.

Le dissi che poteva sedere sul mio letto, ma ella rispose che un simile onore non le era permesso quando era vestita.
—  Giacomo Casanova

If you are not the free person you want to be you must find a place to tell the truth about that. To tell how things go for you. Candor is like a skein being produced inside the belly day after day, it has to get itself woven out somewhere. You could whisper down a well. You could write a letter and keep it in a drawer. You could inscribe a curse on a ribbon of lead and bury it in the ground to lie unread for thousands of years. The point is not to find a reader, the point is the telling itself. Consider a person standing alone in a room. The house is silent. She is looking down at a piece of paper. Nothing else exists. All her veins go down into this paper. She takes her pen and writes on it some marks no one else will ever see, she bestows on it a kind of surplus, she tops it off with a gesture as private and accurate as her own name.

Anne Carson, from section “Could 1” of “Candor,BOMB Magazine (no. 116, Summer 2011)

Being in love feels a lot like drinking hot tea or coffee
When you’re in love you start to feel all warm and cozy
But this isn’t just what love is all about
For like a hot beverage, it can burn you, get cold, or just simply run out
—  kdr