Wednesday, August 31, 2011
I Do Not Wrestle (today)
I was scheduled to wrestle a guy this morning, but things did not work out. And, I've agonized about how I'd approach explaining this to you guys. You see, I was not able to get together with the guy - let's call him Mr. B - because he could not fly into my town on account of the fact that he had lost power at his home to Hurricane Irene and his mother lives with him and she's on oxygen which requires electricity to generate, and he needs to keep the generator running. Obviously, in the equation of Mother's Life vs. Wrestling, Mother's Life wins.
But it's not exactly that simple. Mr. B and I have been trying to meet up for years. I think I first heard from him maybe five years ago. He has work that brings him to my town on occasion and we've set up maybe six meetings over the years to get together. Every single time something has come up. Usually it involves his work - he has to travel with his boss or a co-worker and he can't get away. Earlier this year, I flew to his home town, and we set up a meeting. At last, right? But no. Unbelievably, his father died. Yeah, died.
Let me say that based on the photos I've seen of this guy, he's good looking. Not too big (around 165 pounds) and pretty cut. He doesn't want to wrestle so much as flex and trade holds. That's cool. But I swear I'm beginning to think that there is some sort of curse on us. Really, I did not expect to get with him this morning. I set up my plans to do so - cleared my schedule at work, took off half a day - but I knew that there was a really good chance that we would not get together. And I was right.
All of this is a really good example of how it is to communicate with someone over the internet. I've never met Mr. B. Never spoken to him on the phone. For all I know, he could be some fourteen-year-old jerk in Ohio who's fucking with me. The pictures he sends to me are relatively unchanged over all these years. It could be a hoax.
But I don't think so. As I've mentioned before in this column, you develop a sense about these things that helps you to determine when to stop emailing and when to keep going. In this case, I think Mr. B is telling me the truth. I find it hard to believe someone would maintain this sort of correspondence over years as a joke for such a small pay-off. I think he really does want to get together, and I will put myself out there to meet him, if I can. Cursed? Well, I don't believe in those things, but man, we've had a string of bad luck. Still, I want to meet him. I just hope it's not a big let down when it finally happens.