“Twister, the Game that Ties You Up in Knots” gave new meaning to the phrase “contact sports.” Johnny Carson’s Tonight Show twist with peek-a-boob Eva Gabor goosed up the sales.

A problem with Twister, however, is that once the contestants begin twisting together, a third person must be present to spin the spinner. The solution: forget the spinner and take turns making up the calls.

But the Milton Bradley version is where to start.

Take off your shoes and face your opponent from opposite ends of the mat. The six-row mat is better than the original four-row.

Place one foot on the yellow dot closest to you, and the other foot on the blue dot. Your opponent does the same on his. “On his,” one may ask. Is this a sexist game? Absolutely.

Spin the spinner. “Right Hand Blue,” so put your right hand on a blue dot of your choice.

Spin again and your opponent makes his move.

There can be no more than one hand or foot on any dot. If your hand or foot is already on a dot of the called color, you must move it to another dot of that color. If there’s no way to get your left hand to a yellow dot but to reach between your opponent’s legs, say, “Hope you don’t mind,” and he’ll act stone-faced as you rub against what’s there.

Never remove your hand or foot from a dot, other than lifting it to allow another hand or foot to pass.

The objective: “To outlast opponents by stretching and entwining your body like a human pretzel around a large vinyl sheet emblazoned with multicolored dots, without falling down.”

The real objective, of course, is to have sex on the mat.

Strategy? Move toward your opponent’s portion of the mat to force him to go over or under you. Over or under? We know what we like, but if you haven’t played with him before, maybe it’s best to settle for the bottom.

Tactics?

Goose him for a quick collapse. The official rules don’t prohibit it. If he doesn’t fall right away, though, he’ll goose you back and you’ll both fall down.

Let your neckline lure him to lose his balance.

Employ your butt to draw him toward the precarious dots.

Breathe heavily.

Lead him to flatten himself on his back. Reward his acquiescence.

The game’s rated “6 to Adult,” so at 15 and 17, my brother and I were OK.

Twister’s sort of an advanced version of Ha!, actually, where your head rests on the stomach of the next player. If there are the four of you, you form a square. Player 1 says, Ha!. Player 2 says Ha! Ha! and round and round until everybody breaks up. Reverse directions and do it again. It would be pointless, of course, if you didn’t have a boy’s ear under your boob. Roll over the boy’s lap as you get up. ‘

“Christmas Wind-Down” is what Mom called the week before New Year’s, a time just to enjoy not going to school, trying out your new outfit, eating the remaining sweets, skate, talk on the phone. Lots to do.

We’d gotten Twister from Uncle Todd and Aunt Eileen. The game looked OK, but anything given to both of us never seemed special. Probably it would end up in the game closet with its spinner broken. My brother was never careful about anything.

We might have shelved the game un-tried, but the weather was from Canada.

“Why don’t you two try that twist-up game Todd and Eileen gave you,” Mom’s suggestion, as there actually wasn’t lots to do. “It looks pretty complicated, though.’”

He was aggressive, trying to reach under my throat to get his left hand on green, but I blocked his foot from a solid four-point stance and his knee hit the mat when he tried to get his right foot on the same color. Got him!

Championship round, he tried to bridge me to where I couldn’t twist upwards, but I managed. Then he had to cross his feet and I got a lucky spin, needing to move my own foot just one color outwards. In trying to reach behind mine, his elbow touched the mat and I was the winner.

The thing about Twister is that you have to ignore were you get touched and you have to pretend not to notice where your opponent touches you. As I said, the game’s about sex.