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.
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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.