Message from John Carter

This blog is rated R and is not appropriate for people under the age of 18. If you are offended by gay content, please move on and read some other blog.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Who Do I Want to Wrestle (and Fuck)? Part 36

Most college wrestlers don't have the sort of posed, shirtless pics that Doug Schwab has.  Doug, seen above in all his chest-bearing glory, is the current Coach of the University of Northern Iowa's wrestling team and a former Olympian.  Maybe that's why he has the beefcake shots.  He was in the Olympics.

Doug wrestled at 66 kg - that's 145.5 pounds for you non-metric Americans--so even though he looks like he's about six feet tall, he isn't.  He's actually about 5'8".  The perfect size, in my opinion.

Some international wrestling is done shirtless, which is, I think you will agree, a really good idea.  I wish college wrestlers had to wrestle in just a pair of shorts.  That would really make the matches more...interesting? 

I posted the picture above primarily for a friend of mine in St. Louis.  That's Trent Paulson on the left giving Doug what-for.  My friend has a bit of a thing for both Paulson twins.  I don't blame him. 

These two photos feature two of my crushes: Sushil Kumar (of India) and Doug.  Sushil has a great body, and I wish I had seen this match.  I think Sushil won.  These photos were taken at the Beijing Olympics.

I know these fan-boy fantasies are a little ridiculous.  What are the chances that Doug Schwab will google images of himself, find this blog, and decide that, yes, he would like to wrestle me? 

Google images of himself:  90%
Find this blog (and click on the link):  20%
Decide that, yes, he wants to wrestle me:  .00001%

But, hey, that's still .00001 of a percent.  Call me, maybe, Doug.








Saturday, January 26, 2013

Chemistry

The Manti Te’o story did not shock me much, and I assume did not shock many of the readers of this blog.  Friends of mine—mainly non-wrestlers in their fifties—expressed a great deal of skepticism that someone could build a relationship with someone entirely through internet and phone conversations.  How, they asked, could a guy have a relationship with a girl he’s never met?


                                           Manti Te'o looking broken-hearted

Well, gay wrestlers build relationships with other gay wrestlers primarily through internet interaction and phone conversations.  Sometimes we webcam or use skype, but there is no doubt that we in the gay wrestling community make friends and have relationships with guys whom, sometimes, we have never met.

For instance, I am going to Des Moines, Iowa in March.  I will be sharing my room with a guy whom I’ve never met.  I’ve spoken to him on the phone, and shared innumerable emails and texts, but we have never met.

Crazy?  It could be, but I don’t think so.



                                      Chris Dardanes of Minnesota gets upset


In the twenty-first century, when people have begun to find those who share their particular interests through the interent, it’s not that uncommon to “meet” someone through a website (like globalfights or meetfighters) and become “friends.”  That’s right, I consider the guy who I will be sleeping with and wrestling with, a friend.  I have never met him face-to-face, but I like him.

I’ve spoken before on this blog about listening to that “inner voice” that we all have.  Your Spider-sense, if you will.  It’s very important.  If you have doubts about a guy you are going to meet, you should examine those doubts honestly and frankly before you travel miles and miles, and spend the money on a hotel.  I’m not talking about your fears.  It’s understandable that you might be nervous about meeting a guy for the first time.  No, I’m talking about a nagging suspicion that maybe the guy won’t be as great as you think.

                            My hero: Logan Steiber takes down an opponent


I don’t have any lingering spider-sense issues with the guy I will meet for the first time in March.  They just aren’t there.  But lately, I did have a situation where I had doubts, and I did not listen to them.

Several people wrote to me this past week and asked about the odd paragraph that ended my last blog entry.  Well, that was a message to someone specific.  The entire blog post was an explanation (in part) as to why I left abruptly after having driven four and half hours to wrestle a guy. 

I had not listened to my spider-sense. 

I have no intention of being rude to anyone in this blog.  I don’t have the right to pass judgment on anyone.  But I can say that I have the right to decide who I wrestle and who I don’t.  And, a lot of it comes down to something as ephemeral as chemistry.

That term gets used a lot in referring to how people react to each other.  But it is true that human beings react on an emotional level to other people.  Whether this is the result of some particular aspect of a person’s appearance, something that person says, or some mannerism they exhibit, none of us can deny the fact that we judge a person on our first meeting.

Last summer when I was in Chicago, I met a guy who came to my hotel room to wrestle some friends of mine.  The second he walked in the door, I knew I wanted to wrestle him.  Thank God, he felt the same way.  But I have also had instances where I have met a guy and realized, equally as quickly, that I did not want to wrestle him.  On that same trip to Chicago, I met a guy who is, by all criteria, very attractive.  But for some reason, I knew—knew—that I did not want to wrestle him, or, that if I did, we would not hit it off sexually.  And, that is exactly what happened.  We wrestled, but that was all.

It was chemistry my friends.  You either hit it off, or you don’t.  It’s all part of that primal, animal, part of us that recognizes a suitable mate (or in this case, wrestling partner) when it sees one. 

So, before you book that flight.  Before you gas up the car.  Examine your feelings and see if you have any doubts.  Hopefully, you won’t, and you’ll meet a guy to wrestle who will become a life-long friend.  It’s happened to me far more often than it hasn’t. 

Monday, January 21, 2013

Coming to Grips

I grew up in the south.  In my late-teen years and my very early twenties, I lived in a lower-middle class neighborhood with big backyards and small houses.   My friends were all like me; long-haired and sort of rudderless.  We listened to Lynyrd Skynyrd and drank Pabst Blue Ribbon.  Many nights were spent listening to my friends argue, passionately, that the Confederate Battle Flag was a symbol of regional pride.  Several of those friends would go to prison.  Most would just abide, working in low-level jobs where they remain to this day, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and cursing liberals and fags.

When I got to be about twenty-two, I got tired of it.  I moved to another city, went to college, and left my redneck roots behind (as much as anyone can).  It wasn't just the low-level violence and binge drinking that drove me away.  It was the realization that I could NEVER come out and be a gay man around those people.  They would never understand, never accept me, never suddenly have a mind-altering realization that they were narrow-minded and angry about their own masculinity. 

One of my close friends went to prison.  It doesn't matter why.  Another close friend told me that he would never have anything to do with that guy again.  Why?  Because he'd broken the law?  No.  Because he was in prison and in prison, guys had sex with other guys.  Therefore (ran his logic) the guy was a fag now.

That was the sort of conversation that made me realize that I was done with that shit.  Yeah, the go-to-jail thing was bad too, but it was the fact that I couldn't be ME that drove me away.

Interestingly enough, we wrestled a lot in those days.  Not sexual/gay wrestling, but redneck/beer-stoked wrestling.  Which, by the way, are very close to the same thing - but then again not.

My friends regularly stripped off their shirts and wrestled each other.  I regularly stripped off my shirt and wrestled them.  They were sweaty, alcohol-fueled matches that contained no regulation moves and certainly no posting.  It was just strength against strength, and sometimes it got ugly.

Undoubtedly, there was a latent, homosexual element to it.  Two guys, shirts off, entangled on the cool grass.  Their friends gathered around, egging them on.  It was ersatz sex.  Closeness without compassion.  It was his hot breath on my neck.  His hands on my chest.  His legs wrapped around mine.  It was an absence of women.  An all-male rite of passage.  A realization that we were not getting laid that night, so we might as well screw with each other.

As any of you who have been reading my blog know, I wanted more.  I wanted the sweat.  I wanted the muscle-on-muscle.  I wanted the all male bonding.  But I also wanted my opponents to be my friends, my close companions.  I wanted to kiss them, and stand next to them, my arm around their neck.  I wanted to listen to their troubles and be a part of their lives.  I wanted a closeness that I could never achieve there.

So, as I said, I left.  I did not let any of them know where I'd gone. Did not give them my new phone number.  Did not give them my new address.  As one of them told me when I met him in a Wal-Mart a few years back: I dropped off the face of the earth.

And I became another person.

No, wait a minute.  That's not right.

I became me.

And that, in an oblique way, is my explanation for why I left so abruptly the other night.  It was not that I thought you were a loser or that you were necessarily dangerous.  It was that I was back there, in that backyard again.  And I didn't like it. 


This is me today.  I am a 54-year-old man who likes guys.  Especially guys who know themselves and like to wrestle.  A little muscle doesn't hurt either. 




Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Greco-Roman Wrestling

For those of you who don't know, Greco-Roman wrestling is one of two types of wrestling practiced at the Olympics.  (The other is free style).  Greco-Roman is based on (just like it sounds) Greek and Roman style wrestling.

Greco does not allow the wrestlers to obtain a hold below the waist, so they must grapple for control by gaining control of their opponent's arms or torso.  Once an opponent is thrown to the mat, you have thirty seconds to "turn" him-- that is expose his back to the mats.  Since you can't grab him below the waist, you have to heave him up and over from around the chest or waist.

A friend of mine sent me the following video this week.  Check it out and see what you think.  I think it is incredibly hot.  I think all international wrestling should be done shirtless, but it isn't.


I think the two guys are very sexy and I love the fact that they are going at it in a real match.  But more importantly, I think Greco-style wrestling is a really cool way to wrestle.  Because it pits two guys, one against the other, chest to chest, head to head, it seems to me to be a more pure type of wrestling even than free style - which relies more on skill in takedowns.  Where free style requires speed, Greco requires muscle and stamina.  I love the way the guys' muscles flex as they lean into each other and fight for position.

Here is another hot Greco match.

I love the blonde guy.  I guess I have a weakness for blondes.

Then, here's one more match that I've watched quite a few times over the years.  Again, I think the blonde guy is amazing looking, although both guys are so muscled and fit that I just want to jump in there with them.





So, who wants to do some Greco wrestling with me?  Any takers out there?


Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Backpoints


I got up at five o’clock (my usual time) to go for a run yesterday.  I like to get in about two quick miles before work along with around 400 crunches and 80-100 push-ups.  I walked out the front door and took a look at the temperature gauge on the front porch.  It was twenty-four degrees.

I don’t like cold weather.  Oh, I ran, avoiding the icy spots, but it was damned cold.  If the wind hadn’t been blowing, I think I could have stood it a little better, but the breeze would just take your breath away. 

This morning, it was twenty-one degrees.  I just turned over and went back to bed for thirty minutes.

Winter is not my favorite season.  I don’t like being cold.  I guess it’s the southern boy in me.  We folk from south of the Mason-Dixon don’t care much for frost and snow.  We like it hot and sunny, with a mint julip on the front porch.  I’ve been to Chicago in January, and I’ve been to Evanston in early March (that’s just north of Chicago).  And it was frigging cold.  But I didn’t much care for it.  Heavy coats make it hard to gauge a guy’s build.  

                                   


Of course, on the other hand, January and February is wrestling season.  This is the time of year when college wrestling is in full swing and I can watch matches on the Big Ten Network or on FlowWrestling.com.  As you probably already know, I have a major hard-on for several college wrestlers, and I love watching them hit the mats and struggle and sweat and win, and lose.  




I especially love it when a wrestler I like gets in trouble, and gets turned over onto his back – giving up those precious backpoints – as he struggles to escape and right himself.  That moment, when he is being humiliated in front of the crowd, held helpless on the mats, gets me really turned on.  I love that scenario when the hero is rendered immobile and displayed to the gaping crowd.  In college wrestling that means that he is face up, a strong hand across his chin, pulling his head backwards.  His body is arched and his crotch exposed.  You can almost hear the other guy laughing under his breath.  Giddy at the debasement of his foe.



College wrestling, unlike so much of the wrestling we see in Pro or in the various videos tailored for gay men, is very real.  That sense of real struggle is what I find exciting.  The idea that they aren’t just going through the motions of the match; they are actually trying to pin their opponent.  I’ve never liked videos where it was obvious that the two guys were just playing, or where it was obvious that neither wrestler really knew how to wrestle.  I like to watch the real thing, with real consequences.


                               

For me, personally, I desperately want a match with a guy my size and my skill level.  I want to wrestle with him until we are both covered in sweat and gasping for air.  I want to be put in holds and have to fight to escape.  And I want to put him in holds and have him struggle to free himself.  At times, I want to be trapped in a scissors or a nelson—or any appropriate hold--and taunted and teased.  I want to be that hero, helpless on the mats, humiliated in front of the crowd.  And I want to escape, too, and have the match continue.

Most of all, I want to participate.  I have spent way too much time in my life thinking about wrestling.  I want to wrestle.  I want to experience a guy’s chest pressed up to mine.  I want to feel his biceps bulging as he struggles against me.  I want to feel his hard cock against mine and know that he is as hard as I am. 

Saturday, January 12, 2013

2013

With a new year, comes the hope that I will be able to wrestle a lot over the next twelve months.  I was extremely lucky last year. I wrestled a wide variety of guys, and most of my matches were a ton of fun, and erotic to boot.  This year, I'm hoping for more of the same, but I face a few difficulties.

Money, for one.  I'm not as free as I've been in the past to just hop on a flight and go wrestle in DC or Chicago for several days.  I just can't afford it as easily as I could.  Also, I've got someone living with me who ties up my evenings quite a bit.

But, I'm still absolutely focused on being in shape.  The photo above was taken today (January 12th) and I think I'm doing okay.  I'm never as big as I want to be.  Never as massively muscled.  But, I've long since hit the point in my life where I have accepted my body.  The one point where I do still struggle is in the amount of weight I lift.  Especially in the bench press.  I have never been that great of a bench-presser (is that a word?).  But, I'm (again) working on increasing my poundage.

            From HardRockWrestling.com - Jake Jenkins (one of my crushes) gets worked over

Tentatively, I plan on making several wrestling trips this year.  I am for sure headed to Des Moines, Iowa in March to watch the NCAA Wrestling Tournament.  I've got my tickets and a hotel room, and several matches lined up.  Also, I will be in town with several wrestling friends.  That should be a fun several days.  I want to wrestle every day and night, and see lots of wrestling action on the mats at the tournament.  In particular, I'm excited to see my heroes like David Taylor, Logan Stieber, and (my newest crush) Nick Moore up close and (relatively) personal.

                                                             Nick, buddy, let's wrestle!

In April, I intend to go to DC for several days.  I've got several matches (sort of) set for that, including a match with a guy from Boston that I've been wanting to wrestle for years.  The DC area has a lot of really great guys who wrestle.  And, I have some close friends who live there (who also wrestle) whom I hope to spend time with.

Other trips will be shorter and cheaper:  Memphis.  Maybe Cape Girardeau.  Texarkana.  Maybe Oklahoma.

My primary interest this year, though, is to meet some new guys and to make some new friendships.  I'm hoping that I can meet up with some hot guys who are close to my size who like to wrestle and have fun.  I'm always interested in meeting someone new, so if you think you'd like to wrestle me and that we'd be a good match, contact me through this blog or through globalfight or Meetfighters.  Let's set something up.  
 

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Submission

Hello again. It's been awhile, hasn't it?

Sort of a rough holiday.  Got socked in by a winter storm, lost power for quite a few days (nearly froze our asses off) and had a lot of damage to the trees around the house.

But we're not here to discuss those sorts of things, now are we?  No.  We most certainly are not. 

I love the photo above.  The guy in the black is Nick Moore, a 165-pound wrestler for the Iowa Hawkeyes.  He appears to be putting the hurt on (I'll guess) Cody Yohn of Minnesota.  Cody may well be enjoying the bridge in which he finds himself.  Course, I guess he's also concerned that he is about to be pinned. 

Nick is such a handsome guy.  He is, in fact, just a little like the ideal wrestler - body-wise - as far as I'm concerned.  I like wrestlers to be rather short and stocky with thick legs and blonde hair.  Nick fits that bill very well.

So, he has become my latest crush in the world of college wrestling.  He looks tough doesn't he?  I'm sure he is.  But I'd really like to meet him and get a chance to wrestle with him on a long rainy afternoon.  I will hopefully get to see him in March at the NCAA Wrestling Tournament.

Okay, okay.  Focus!

Our topic today is submission.  My last post discussed the possibility of me dominating another guy.  Since then, it seems as though everyone I've talked to has revealed, after a bit, that they are into bondage and domination. 

For instance, I had an email from a guy this past week asking me about wrestling him.  He is nice looking (according to the photo) and we exchanged emails.  But after a few, he began to ask me if I would be interested in becoming his slave.  He, it turns out, is a dom (as they say) and even though he was willing to wrestle me, he wanted the end result to be fore-ordained: that I would surrender to him.

I had to think about it.  I mean, could you allow another guy to have complete and total physical (and some would say mental) control over you?

I would think that one would have to have a great deal of trust in the individual who was the dom.  I could not surrender myself completely to a guy unless I knew that he was not going to hurt me or that he would stop if I asked him to.  That is trust.  Sort of the ultimate form of trust, I would think.

As a gay wrestler, I like to think that I am not a submissive.  I like to struggle with another guy, to attempt to impose my will on him, and to have him attempt to impose his on me.  I like the struggle, the issue being in doubt until one of us taps or is forced to cum or whatever the outcome.

To just give myself to another guy...that seems to fly in the face of what being a gay wrestler is all about.  We strive for self-worth, for dignity, for a sense of our physical being through grappling with our fellow men.  We don't just lie on out backs and give in.  Well, some of us do, but those guys suck as wrestlers.

However, I decided to see how far I would be willing to go.  I wrote the guy back and said: Yes.  I would become his slave.

The tone of the emails changed immediately.  He began to insist that I call him Master, and he (in turn) addressed me as slave.  Then he began to tell me about how he was going to insist that I prove to him how much I wanted to be his slave.  I had to admit, I was curious to see what "task" he would ask me to perform considering that I am several hundred miles distant from him.

I got my answer.  He wanted me to post mysef on a BDSM website as his slave.

Frankly, that sounds a bit much considering I've never even meet this guy.  Also, after looking at this site, I have to admit, I'm sort of a naif.  I am not up on all the longo and did not quite understand all the permutations involved in this fetish or set of fetishes (fetishii?).

I don't want to be pee'ed or shat upon.  Just not me.

I don't want to be gagged.

I don't want to be whipped or spanked.

So, I guess I'm not slave material.

Also, there is a basic difference in the way people post themselves on a BDSM website as opposed to a wrestling website.  We post pics of our bodies--our chests, our biceps, our shoulders.  They post, almost exclusively, pics of their penises.  If you scroll through the posts, it's like looking at a catalog for a sausage company.  I mean, it's just dick after cock after john after member.  After a while, it's all sort of disorienting.  And, I got the distinct impression that the bodies attached to those dicks were not too great looking.  Quite a few need a bit of man-scaping.

So, I guess I'll stick with wrestling.