Sunday, September 30, 2012
I am 54 in about four days. I suppose that in the context of the gay life, I should be somewhat depressed. But you know what? I'm not. I feel pretty damned good. For an old coot I'm working out like crazy, eating right, and getting to wrestle a lot of really hot guys.
And guess what?
I'm gonna do it again next year!
Here we are, smack dab in the middle of the twenty-first century. And a lot of the rubrics that ruled our lives in the last century are falling away. Fear. Self-consciousness. Failure to act. All the little character flaws that we've allowed to rule our lives, to govern our actions. To keep us locked up in our homes and our heads, aching to come to gripes with our fellow men.
How many years did I spend THINKING about wrestling? How many hours did I waste wishing I could meet someone who thought like I did, who wanted to strip down to barely anything (or nothing!) and wanted to test themselves against another guy? Who wanted to feel their hard cock pressing against their jeans in anticipation of the struggle, the domination, the humiliation of wrestling? How many nights did I go to sleep dreaming of big, rounded biceps and well-defined pecs? How many times did I wonder how it would feel to be caught between the massive thighs of some stud?
Well, I am done with wishing and thinking and hoping. I am DOING. And that, my friends, is my advice to you. Now, before another day passes, resolve that you will get in slightly better shape, that you will reach out and talk to another guy. That you won't let your life slip away without experiencing the very thing that most animates you.
Do it, man. NOW!!!
It's my birthday. And you know what I wish? That you were not so lonely. That you had friends who wanted to wrestle you. That you experienced the awesome rush of having another guy chest-to-chest with you, his hard cock pressing on you, your hands on his firm ass. That's what I wish - for you--to have a good next year.
But it won't happen unless you try. You have to meet me half-way. Resolve to get more exercise. Resolve to be nice and patient with your internet friends. Resolve to understand when you are turned down, and resolve to not let it bother you. Resolve to be gracious and available, to be open and ready to accommodate the interests of others. Resolve to be a good wrestling friend and partner. Resolve to re-vamp that profile pic that shows you laying down or fully clothed. Resolve to sell yourself! In short, resolve to be a part of this community. It's great. I guarantee you. The rewards are infinite.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
If you will recall, I wrote a post a few weeks back about being tough. I think, depending on the guy I wrestled this past week, that I either embraced those ideals or I forgot entirely about them. For instance, when I wrestled my friend from DC (and I use the term "wrestled" pretty broadly here) I did not show a lot of aggression.
Why? I think I sort of figured that I could not beat him. There was something about him that told me that a real match between the two of us would not have ended well for me. And, I think I was right. He was quite strong - and it turned out - had wrestled in college. A major college. A major Division I college. Okay, maybe that had been a few years ago. But he was a strong guy.
Now, when I wrestled my buddy from Nashville, and the guy from Atlanta, --and even the guy from San Francisco, I didn't hold back. For some reason I intuited that these would be good matches. That we would be relatively well-matched. Atlanta turned out to be a lot stronger than he looked, but he was a nice guy who liked give-and-take. I could tell that it was going to be fun, no matter what.
My Nashville friend, in particular, was extremely hot, and fun to wrestle. God, I enjoyed rolling with that guy. He was such fun. Easy-going, and masculine. Strong, but not over-poweringly so. The same goes for San Francisco. He had a hot body and was strong enough to give me a hard time, but I could hold my own with him.
Even wrestling Colorado and St. Louis was no big deal for me. Both of those guys are bigger than me, but I had no problem just jumping in and doing my best. I think I didn't use many moves with Colorado, which I regret (it was like my mind went blank) but against St. Louis, I did okay. Of course, both those guys let me do ok.
Now, I'm not saying that DC wasn't a nice guy. Or wasn't fun to wrestle. I think it was more me than him. Maybe it's because it was so late in the week and I was sort of worn out. I mean, that's my excuse. But I still think that even fresh, that I could not have controlled him. I just don't see it. Do I want to wrestle him again? Yes, I do, but I don't think I would ever wrestle him competitively. I don't think that would be a good idea. Dude, if you're reading this: sorry. I think you're a little out of my league.
But, having displayed my wimp flag, let me also say that I am not giving up. I'm still working like crazy to get bigger. And I will still work on my attitude to try and be a tougher opponent. I don't mean that I want to be an ass-hole, I just mean that I want to be a better wrestler. Someone other guys want to wrestle.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Well, Wrestling Week has come to a close and I got to wrestle six different guys. What do I have to show for my efforts? An exhausted libido, for one. Another is a sore neck. Bruises on my feet, legs, and chest. And…a general sense of well-being.
Yeah, I’m pretty happy.
It was fun.
The week ended off with an extended sex-match against a guy from San Francisco. He’s someone I’ve wanted to meet for a long time, and I am happy to report that our meeting was well worth the effort (on both our accounts). There was bed wrestling. There was oil wrestling. There was cock-fighting. Really, just about everything I could have hoped for.
I also got to wrestle my friend from Washington DC who has been trying to come to my town for about five years. We’ve had so many things get in the way: earthquakes, tornados, sick moms, you-name-it. I sort of expected the apocalypse this time. But instead, we actually met. He was nice, and had a great build…and I was just about worn out from wrestling all week. We still had a good time, although we didn’t wrestle a whole lot. Probably just as well. I think he’s a lot stronger than me. I doubt I could have taken him anyway.
So, here I sit, a Sunday night. Tire and sore. When will I wrestle again? I don’t know.
* * *
Before I sign off on all this, I want to discuss a subject that has been on my mind. I have to be careful about the way I approach this, because it’s something that can freak a lot of people out. But I think this is on my mind because of the fact that I have been on this website called Scruff the last week, and it’s sort of depressing.
Scruff is sort of a gay-dating site for more masculine guys. I’ve had a lot of text messages over the last week, but primarily the guys that have written to me have fallen into two camps: those that just want to text and those that want me to come over RIGHT NOW!!!
I wrote on my profile that I was into wrestling, but no one actually reads profiles. They react to the pics that are posted. I guess they like mine, cause I get a lot of texts like this: “Hey sexy.”
Anyway, that sort of thing is NOT what I am interested in pursuing.
And, it got me to thinking about the fact that most of the guys that I have met through wrestling are people that I wouldn’t mind seeing again. That’s the point I am trying to get to (in such a round-about sort of way). I like wrestlers.
Most average gay guys are not much fun to be around. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I don’t like feminine guys. I don’t like to discuss shoes or “Sex and the City.” I don’t like people who try to draw attention to themselves or want to make a scene.
I like regular guys. Flannel shirts, and work boots. T-shirts and baseball caps. Button-down oxfords and dented hubcaps. (My God, it sounds like a country song.)
And I find that a lot of the guys that I encounter on non-wrestling sites are not really like that. Some are, but if they are, they always live in LA or deep in the green recesses of the Adirondacks. The guys that I have met through wrestling are, about 65% of the time, guys that I would like to see again. They are guys that I like to hang with, to drink beer with, to talk with. They are primarily (that’s right – not all of them) big armed and regular. And, let me say it again, I like them.
I know a lot of guys want to wrestle someone and mark them off their bucket list. Wrestled him? Yeah. Check. Next.
I’m not really like that. I tend to want to stay in touch. To talk. To be friends. I LIKE a lot of these guys and I want to be around them. And that’s where it gets freaky. No one in the internet age likes to think that someone likes them. Then it’s scary. They might show up at work or at their sister’s wedding. Well, I’m not like that. I’m not going any where. I have a life. I have responsibilities to people who need me. And, I intend to keep those responsibilities.
But I do sometimes wish I could see my wrestling friends more often. I can’t help it. This is a life that I like. These are the types of people whose company I crave. They are, in fact, the people who have occupied my fantasies since I was able to fantasize about anything sexual. So, I suppose it’s natural that I should want to be around them.
Tonight, though, as cooler autumn air filters into the south and drives the humidity toward the gulf. As the neighbor’s dog barks and the street lights flicker and come on, I’m thinking about all those guys and wondering where they are tonight. I’m wondering what occupies their minds. And, in some small way….I’m hoping that I occupy their fantasies, too.
Friday, September 21, 2012
But, I arrived at the Grizz's hotel room which he promptly turned into an arena, and we went at it. That was some of the most sustained and intense wrestling I've done in a while. Grizz isn't much on erotic, so it was real competition and fun. He's bigger than me, but knows how to roll with a smaller guy.
Of course, Grizz has lost some weight and is looking good. I was surprised when I ran into him in the lobby. He's my height and from behind, he looks so little. But front on - he's still a big tough guy.
The photos I've posted show me as of this morning (September 21st). If you look carefully, you can see the bruises that I've accumulated so far this week. Nothing bad. Just superficial black marks.
Otherwise, it's been an odd week. Some of you may have seen that my pictures (with Mr. Colorado) were featured on the homepage at Globalfights.com. That was nice, and also kind of a problem. I got around 200 emails as a result of that. I feel obligated to answer each one, so that has occupied a fair amount of my time this week.
On another front, I tried out a new website called Scruff. It's an app that you load to your iPhone and/or iPad. It's basically a gay dating/hook-up site but it is geared towards more masculine guys.
I posted a profile and was really upfront about wanting to wrestle. I have at least three guys who've expressed an interest in wrestling. Now, will any of these guys actually go through with it? One is really enthusiastic. Another has set up a gym date with me. And another says he is, but I'm not sure.
You might try Scruff. It's okay, although I have had quite a few guys write to me that did not read the profile. When I mentioned wrestling, they did not respond back. It's just as well. Their humiliation would have been complete at my hands. [Insert evil laughter...]
Just kidding. I'll let you know how it goes with wrestlesweat. And with my DC friend who I am all set to meet tomorrow morning.
Wrestling Week continues...!!!
Monday, September 17, 2012
Okay, that may be a bit of hyperbole, but that's how it's been so far.
I went to Memphis this weekend to meet up with a guy from Nashville, a guy from Colorado and a guy from Atlanta. We got a couple of rooms at a hotel in Germantown and wrestled.
The photo above is of me (on top) getting worked over by Colorado. Now, before you ask, he said it was okay to show his face. I bet quite a few of you guys know him - a great guy and fun to wrestle. As you can see, he was giving me some trouble.
He and I hit it off from the start. There was that elusive chemistry we all want in a match, and Nashville and I hit the mats (the bed at first) and wrestled a while, before dragging the mattress into the other room and wrestling there. Then, because we were that motivated, we stripped down and oil wrestled. Below is a pic of Nashville wrestling with Atlata. Nashville is on the right. I am deeply disappointed that we did not take any pics of Nashville and me together. But we were distracted.
I am so sorry I did not get more photos. Sometimes when you are in the heat of a match or series of matches, you just don't think. I didn't.
Here's the schedule for the rest of Wrestling Week.
Wednesday: The Grizz from St. Louis.
Friday: Wrestlesweat from San Francisco. I am really looking forward to meeting him. I have admired his profile for years! There will be pics, I promise!!!
Saturday: From DC--my friend I have been attempting to meet and wrestle for...oh...I dunno...maybe five years? Will the match finally take place? Will I out-muscle him, or will I be forced to submit?
Friday, September 14, 2012
Part of that's because of the amount of working out I am doing. Five times a week in the gym. And I don't just hang around and talk. I work out. A lot of guys count a gym visit as a work out, but then hardly do anything other than wander among the weight stacks for a bit. I am not like that. I have a plan each time I go to the gym and I work through my sets/reps with a sort of energy more often associated with people suffering from OCD.
Hey, wait a minute. Maybe...nah!
Anyway, the point is that I am not taking in enough calories.
But I hate eating. I used to enjoy a meal. Now it's a chore.
Alright, enough whining.
This weekend means: WRESTLING. If everything works out, I will wrestle a guy from Nashville and a guy from Colorado. And, fingers crossed, I may get to wrestle a guy from Atlanta, too. But, who knows? These things often do not turn out like we planned.
These guys have never met (most of them) and sometimes the chemistry can be a little off. I hope that is not the case, but it's a possibility. I will be wrestling no matter what. I want to, and I need to. However, I will be sensitive to what everyone else wants.
I hope you guys have a good weekend. Hopefully I will be posting some pics of the matches.
One other note: thanks to my correspondents who wrote in about Jake and Lon. I appreciate the heads-up.
Monday, September 10, 2012
But, am I going to give up? Hell no.
Some miscellaneous thoughts:
I love my fellow bloggers on the Internet. The guys who write Neverland, Ringside at Skull Island and Inner Jobber do a great job of entertaining me and providing good insights into the world of homo-erotic wrestling. And, they provide valuable information about my hoped-for wrestling matches.
See, I don't want to just watch BG East videos--I wanna wrestle. I've already mentioned that I want to wrestle Jake Jenkins. I still do, although a recent post at Ringside at Skull Island informs me that Jake is probably not gay. So, I am moving on in my desire-to-wrestle-that-dude department.
My newest want-to-wrestle is Lon Dumont, a guy I've seen on BG East. Here's Lon:
This coming weekend I will be in the mid-south wrestling. I am supposed to wrestle a guy from Nashville first. He is in great shape, weighs around 165, and will probably dominate me. I will give him a fight, though. Then, I am going to be wrestling a friend from Colorado who will also be coming into town. Mr. Colorado is way bigger than me but he's a really nice guy who knows how to wrestle smaller guys. Me and Nashville will probably take him on together. There is a slight chance that Mr. Colorado will have talked another Nashvillian into joining us. Nashville2 has wrestled on BG East and looks like he would be a blast to hit the mats with. I hope he makes it. Maybe he knows Lon?
From St. Louis, the Grizz.
From San Francisco: Let's just call him the Stud. A guy I have wanted to wrestle for years.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
The building always seemed so dark. There wasn't a sign outside. No flashing neon or even some cheap painted thing. If you lived in my town and you were gay, you knew where it was. You didn't need anything to guide you in. Basically it was a large warehouse space with a set of metal stairs leading up to the front door. From outside, in the summer darkness, it looked like any other warehouse except that there were a lot of cars parked around outside.
A couple of guys got out of their car, laughing drunken laughter and, arm-in-arm, climbed the stairs. I stood in the darkness next to my old pick-up truck and wiped a few beads of sweat from my upper lip. I was drunk. I remember that. I was always drunk when I went to the bar. I had to be. Otherwise, I never would have gone. The summer night was stifling. Standing there in my jeans and t-shirt, I felt like I'd been wrapped in a wool blanket, and in a few minutes I was pulling my t-shirt away from my chest.
Not that I really need to bring Bob Seger into this, but I was a little thin, could'a used a few pounds. In those days I weighed right around one twenty-five. In the shadows, I was as insubstantial as I felt. A curious, nervous thin thing on the brink.
After what must have been five minutes, I forced myself in the door. It was always a shock--the contrast between the humid night and the electric hum inside. Everything was bathed in a purple hue and the music pounded in my ears. The guy at the door looked me over and checked my ID. He did not look gay to me. He probably was, but in those days I did not recognize that there were differences. Small town. You understand.
I squeezed up to the bar and ordered a beer. They were selling some sort of punch--it was pink--and everyone was drinking it. Not me. My adolescent rebellion had not subsided yet (has it ever?) and I would not have been caught dead with one of those in my hand.
The front room was given over to a stage, and some drag queen was lip-syncing to some disco song. It was probably something like "Pull Up to the Bumper," a song I hated in those days, but have learned to like since. I couldn't stand the front room. It was so too open. Too exposed. I was nervous enough, as it was, so I sank back against a wall and headed down the long dark hallway that led to the dance floor.
The dance floor was a room unto itself in the back, and it was an assault on my senses that carried fear and anxiety, as well as hope and desire. The music was earsplitting and the lights swirled across the concrete floor. Dark figures lined the walls and I was transported back to every school dance my mother made me attend.
For some reason, I was always so afraid to meet anyone's eyes, yet I couldn't help but look around. On that night, I remember, I was scanning the crowd, looking off in one direction, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was a firm grasp, and I turned to see a guy, my size, standing in front of me.
He was thin, like me, and blonde, with a handsome face. He looked like some kid you'd have known in high school--a rumpled oxford and a pair of khaki shorts. Not the kind of kid I would have hung around with, mind you, but there were several in my high school who had looked just like him.
He leaned in close and whispered in my ear. He wanted to dance. Wanted me to dance. And I could smell the sharp tang of pot on him. So, we danced. Drunken white-boy dancing that must have looked pretty stupid from afar, and felt equally stupid in fact. But we kept our eyes locked on each other and soon we were wrapped up, arms around each other.
The drive back to my place was done quickly. He had an expensive jeep. I had my old truck. He followed me, and I remember being worried that I might accidentally loose him at a light. But that did not happen and in a few minutes we were on my couch in my apartment, talking and sort of sipping at a beer.
He was handsome. That was what got me about him. In a boyish, jock sort of way. He had good legs with rounded, muscular kneecaps and hairy calves. His hand was on my leg and worked its way up to my crotch, and we leaned in and let our tongues explore. Then we were in my bedroom.
He stood with his back to my bed, and stripped off his shirt. He truly was my size. Same height, about the same weight. And he stood in a sort of defiant way with his arms out from his sides. He leaned in and said: "You want me on the bed? Make me get on the bed."
He wanted to wrestle.
I was so shocked that I literally stood there, frozen. It had never occurred to me that he would want to wrestle. But he shoved me, his hands flat against my now exposed chest and I stumbled backward a few steps. He was in my face, his head tilted to one side. I wanted to lock up with him. Wanted so badly to feel his strength against mine. To try and force him onto the bed, to pin him and feel him squirm underneath me.
But I didn't.
We had sex. Of a sort. And he left.
It was not until the next morning that it all hit me. I could have wrestled with this guy, but I didn't. I was too afraid. To scared to actually cross that threshold and enter my fantasies. I did not have his phone number. Did not know his last name. And I never saw him again expect at a distance, in the bar, in the arms of a big guy who looked like a more muscular version of him.
Moments, mere split seconds, when we live or we die. Our lives are poured out in teaspoons, a poet once said, and before you know it, gone. Now is the time to seize the moment.
Now is the time to wrestle.
Monday, September 3, 2012
So, it's a holiday. Let's take a brief moment and reflect on how our year has been so far:
I am grateful for the times I have been able to spend with my gay wrestling brothers. My everyday life can sometimes be a little bit of a drag. I often have work and family commitments that keep me from doing the things I would like to do. The times I have spent locked up, arms inter-twined, sweat dripping from my body, chest-to-chest or groin-to-groin has been among the best times I have spent this year.
I am grateful that I am healthy enough to take part in wrestling. A lot of guys my age could not, due to heart problems or any number of other factors. I am extremely lucky.
I am grateful that I have the economic resources to be able to travel even as much as I do. Wrestling is an expensive sport because the guys we want to wrestle rarely live close by. We have to travel, whether by car or plane, to other cities. Hotels and meals cost money. I have been able to take several great wrestling trips this year, and I am very blessed in that regard.
I am grateful to the guys that I have met. Without exception, everyone I have wrestled this year (okay, one exception), has been a fun, exciting, and sexy opponent. I hope I get a chance to wrestle them all one more time (at least)!
And lastly, I am grateful that I am involved in this particular fetish. There are a lot of worse fetishes to be obsessed with. Think about it. Shoes. Squashing bugs. We could be involved in a lot worse. Our sub-culture is based on physical fitness, masculine bonding, sweat and strength - virtues that define what a man can and should be. Those are good things. We need to embrace them even more fully than we do.
So, I am grateful. Happy Labor Day and I hope you and I meet on the mats soon - man-to-man.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Well, it’s the end of another week. The work-outs went well this week. I lifted heavier weights than I have in a very long time. The diet? Not so great. I ate like I was supposed to, about every two hours. But I still lost weight. I was right around 150.4 on Monday but by the end of the week I’d fallen to 149.4. I guess I’m not eating enough.
I’m not really sure how I am going to proceed in trying to set up a match with Jake Jenkins. While that seemed like a good idea at first, the more I look into it, the more I think that it’s a bit half-baked.
It strikes me that the matches at Rock Hard Wrestling while exciting and very hot, are not much more than just that – wrestling matches. I mean, contrast that website with a website like Naked Kombat. There the combatants wrestle and the loser gets hammered. You just don’t see that at Rock Hard Wrestling. Of course, the guys at RHW are a lot better looking (to me) – if that means anything.
But, more to the point: what do we make of these guys who perform for our gratification in these matches? We see them, dripping with sweat, their hard bodies being pounded into the mats or slung off the ropes. We fantasize about them, and we forget – or maybe I should say – I forget – that they are really just internet figments – ephemera of the net – not real guys who want to wrestle. They are there to titillate and provoke our desire. But, often, they are not even gay.
Now, I know, it depends on the site. I am under the impression that a lot of the guys at BG East and Thunder’s Arena are gay and like to wrestle. (If I am wrong – someone please tell me). And maybe I would be better served by looking at those guys to find a potential real, actual match. And, maybe I will.
But in the meantime, if Jake wants to wrestle, all he’s gotta do is let me know.
The Coming Weeks:
September is shaping up to be one of my best months all year. I’m not sure why, but a ton of guys are either going to be in Memphis to wrestle or are coming to my town. The guy I told you about that I have been trying to meet for ages (and never have because of one thing or another) is supposedly finally coming to town one Saturday. Another guy – his profile is on global – is also coming this way. This second guy, I’ll came him WS – is someone whose profile has gotten my attention a lot over the years. When WS told me that he would be in Memphis, I was very excited. So, hopefully I will be meeting up with him and wrestling one Saturday, too. And, then on another Saturday I am going to Memphis to meet a hot guy from Nashville and an old friend (and opponent) from Colorado. We are all three going to wrestle. Should be fun.
So, how about you guys? Write me and tell me about your work-outs and your matches. C’mon, let’s hit the mats.